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Christie's  Next  Things.     FRONTISPIECE. 


Gristle's  Jfext 


BY 


MINNIE    E.    KENNEY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "MRS.  MORSE'S  GIRLS,"  "BERNIE'S  LIGHT, 
"THE  WHATSOEVER  TEN,"  ETC. 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150   NASSAU  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 
AMERICAN   TRACT   SOCIETY. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Beginning 7 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  Last  Message 16 

CHAPTER    III. 

The  Class  Motto 25 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Achsah  Howe 35 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Dress  Problem 50 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Christie's  Plan 64 

CHAPTER  VII. 

"Ye  Nexte  Thynge" 79 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Commencement - —    91 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Plans - - 105 


2037239 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 
Miss  Abigail's  Nexte 118 

CHAPTER  XL 
The  Arrival 130 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Rest 144 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Achsah 160 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
An  Unconscious  Ministry 173 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Nexts 193 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Wanderer's  Return 210 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  Beginning 224 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
New  Work 238 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Harvests. 255 


DOE  YE  NEXTE  THYNGE." 

FROM  an  old  English  parsonage 

Down  by  the  sea, 
There  came  in  the  twilight 

A  message  to  me. 
Its  quaint  Saxon  legend 

Deeply  engraven, 
Hath,  as  it  seems  to  me, 

Teaching  from  heaven. 
And  through  the  hours 

The  quiet  words  ring 
Like  a  low  inspiration  : 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 

Many  a  questioning, 

Many  a  fear, 
Many  a  doubt 

Hath  its  quieting  here. 
Moment  by  moment, 

Let  down  from  heaven, 
Time,  opportunity, 

Guidance,  are  given. 
Fear  not  to-morrows, 

Child  of  the  King; 
Trust  them  with  Jesus. 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 

Do  it  immediately, 

Do  it  with  prayer, 
Do  it  reliantly, 

Casting  off  care. 
Do  it  with  reverence, 

Tracing  his  hand 
Who  lays  it  before  thee 

With  earnest  command. 
Stayed  on  Omnipotence, 

Safe  'neath  his  wing, 
Leave  Him  the  issue  : 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 


CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   BEGINNING. 

IT  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  afternoon  in  the 
early  part  of  June.  All  day  long  the  sky  had 
been  an  intense  sapphire,  flecked  here  and  there 
with  tiny  white  cloudlets,  which  floated  lazily 
before  the  fitful  breezes.  One  might  have  imag- 
ined that  they  were  reflections  of  the  snowy- 
winged  sail  boats  that  drifted  with  *the  tide  upon 
the  broad  river,  which  seemed  to  catch  and  mir- 
ror back  again  the  translucent  blue  of  the  sky. 

The  soft  air  was  fragrant  with  the  breath  of 
the  June  roses  which  ran  riot  in  the  somewhat 
old-fashioned  garden  that  surrounded  a  pretty 
cottage.  Climbing  roses  shaded  the  wide  porch 
and  hung  over  the  windows,  while  every  breath 
of  air  brought  a  shower  of  their  pink  and  white 
petals  to  the  ground.  A  large  Jacqueminot  bush 
was  fairly  ablaze  with  its  gorgeous  blossoms,  and 


8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

close  beside  it  a  moss  rose  added  its  spicy  per- 
fume to  the  fragrance  which  flooded  the  air. 

Christie  Gilbert  strayed  from  bush  to  bush, 
plucking  a  bud  here,  and  a  full-blown  rose  there, 
till  her  hands  were  laden,  and  then  she  bent  her 
face  caressingly  over  the  soft  petals,  and  drew 
long  breaths  of  content  as  she  inhaled  the  fra- 
grance. Christie  loved  roses  dearly,  her  flowers 
she  called  them,  since  her  birthday  came  in  the 
month  of  roses,  and  she  cherished  a  real  affection 
for  every  bush  in  the  garden. 

"How  beautiful  these  are!"  she  exclaimed 
at  last.  "I  must  take  some  over  to  Aunt  Pa- 
tience." 

It  was  but  a  little  distance  that  she  had  to  go, 
so  opening  the  gate  she  passed  out  into  the  street, 
the  afternoon  sun  trickling  through  the  branches 
of  the  old  elms  which  bordered  the  road,  and  fall- 
ing in  shimmering  flecks  of  light  and  shade  upon 
her  fair  hair  and  white  dress. 

The  serene  face  and  Quaker-like  attire  of  the 
old  lady  sitting  upon  the  porch  of  a  little  cottage 
before  which  Christie  paused,  seemed  a  part  of 
the  Sabbath  stillness  and  peace. 

"Aunt  Patience"  every  one  called  her,  but 
in  truth  she  had  no  kindred,  and  might  have 
accounted  her  lot  a  sad  and  lonely  one,  if  her 
nature  had  been  less  sweet  and  responsive  to 


THE    BEGINNING.  9 

every  one  with  whom  she  was  brought  in  con- 
tact. 

As  long  as  her  health  and  strength  remained 
she  had  been  an  active  worker,  with  heart  and 
hands  always  ready  to  aid  any  one  who  came  to 
her  for  help;  but  of  late  she  had  grown  very  fee- 
ble, and  the  greater  part  of  her  days  were  passed 
in  the  invalid  chair  in  which  Christie  found  her 
this  afternoon. 

As  Christie  paused  a  moment  with  her  hand 
upon  the  latch  of  the  gate,  she  looked  at  her 
friend  admiringly,  with  all  a  girl's  love  for  the 
beautiful.  The  snow-white  hair,  as  soft  and  fine 
as  spun  silk,  was  parted  over  a  placid  forehead, 
which  looked  as  if  anxiety  and  care  had  never 
ruffled  it,  though  time  had  laid  his  hand  upon  it, 
and  accentuated  the  furrows  which  spoke  of  his 
flight.  The  light  had  not  yet  faded  entirely  from 
the  gray  eyes,  though  they  had  grown  somewhat 
dim,  and  every  feature  seemed  softened  by  the 
touch  of  old  age,  just  as  the  twilight  blends  and 
softens  all  the  features  of  a  landscape  which"  may 
seem  rugged  and  stern  in  the  garish  light  of 
noonday. 

"Shall  I  disturb  you  if  I  come  in  a  little 
while,  Aunt  Patience?"  asked  Christie,  and  the 
reverie  in  which  the  old  lady  had  been  absorbed 
was  broken  at  once  by  the  clear  young  voice. 


io  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Come  in,  my  dear,  I  shall  be  very  glad  of 
your  company  a  little  while,"  she  answered,  and 
as  Christie  leaned  over  her  to  bestow  a  loving 
caress  upon  her,  she  smiled  affectionately  at  the 
young  girl. 

"No,  I  don't  want  a  chair,  thank  you.  I 
would  rather  sit  right  here  on  the  steps  at  your 
feet,"  Christie  exclaimed,  slipping  into  her  favor- 
ite attitude,  with  her  head  resting  against  Aunt 
Patience's  knee. 

"I  was  thinking  about  you  only  a  few  min- 
utes ago,"  said  Aunt  Patience  presently,  her  soft 
hand  giving  caressing  touches  to  Christie's  hair. 
"I  wonder  if  you  came  over  on  purpose  to  get 
the  message  I  had  gathered  for  you." 

"Perhaps  I  did,"  Christie  answered;  "I 
thought  I  came  only  to  bring  you  these  roses, 
but  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  gave  me 
something  to  take  away  with  me.  You  very 
often  do,  I  know." 

"Do  you  remember  what  you  were  saying  a 
few  weeks  ago  when  you  came  over  here  one 
Sunday  evening?  You  were  wishing  that  you 
knew  the  plan  of  your  life,  and  could  see  now 
just  what  you  were  to  do  with  your  future,  so 
that  there  would  be  no'danger  of  your  making  a 
mistake  and  leaving  undone  some  mission  that 
you  were  intended  to  accomplish." 


THE   BEGINNING.  II 

"I  remember  that  day,"  Christie  answered. 
' '  I  was  in  such  a  horrible  mood  of  self-dissatis- 
faction. I  do  have  spasms  of  remorse  every  now 
and  then  when  I  realize  what  a  useless  creature 
I  am.  I  might  just  as  well  be  a  butterfly  for  all 
the  good  I  accomplish  by  living.  I  just  have  a 
good  time,  and  that  is  all.  I  would  like  to 
believe  that  I  was  made  for  some  purpose,  and 
then  I  would  like  to  know  how  to  go  about 
accomplishing  that  purpose.  -Once  in  a  while  I 
try  to  make  really  good  plans,  but  I  never  can 
carry  them  out,  for  some  interruption  always 
comes,  so  I  have  abou.t  made  up  my  mind  to 
drift  aimlessly  along,  without  trying  to  accom- 
plish anything." 

"I  was  reading  a  chapter  in  this  book,  a  lit- 
tle while  ago  that  brought  you  to  my  mind," 
said  Aunt  Patience.  "I  thought  it  might  help 
you  in  settling  your  perplexities,  and  give  you  a 
motto  by  which  you  might  make  your  whole 
life  fruitful  of  good,  without  any  fear  of  mistake. 
Shall  I  read  a  little  to  you,  dear?" 

"Yes,  please,"  answered  Christie,  nestling 
her  cheek  against  the  soft  wrinkled  hand. 

"  'Duty  is  never  a  hap-hazard  thing,'  "  read 
Aunt  Patience.  "'It  does  not  come  to  us  in 
bundles  from  which  we  may  choose  what  we  like 
best.  There  are  never  half  a  dozen  things,  any 


i2  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

one  of  which  we  may  fitly  do  at  any  particular 
time;  there  is  some  one  definite  and  particular 
thing  in  the  divine  purpose  for  each  moment.  In 
writing  music,  no  composer  strews  the  notes  along 
the  staff  just  as  they  happen  to  fall  on  this  line 
or  that  space  ;  he  sets  them  in  harmonious  order 
and  succession  so  that  they  will  make  sweet  mu- 
sic when  played  or  sung.  The  builder  does  not 
fling  the  stones  and  the  beams  into  the  edifice 
without  plan  ;  every  block  of  stone  and  every 
piece  of  wood  or  iron  has  its  place,  and  the  build- 
ing rises  in  graceful  beauty.  The  days  are  like 
the  lines  and  spaces  in  the  musical  staff,  and  the 
duties  are  the  notes;  each  life  is  meant  to  be  a 
perfect  harmony,  and  in  order  to  this  each  duty 
has  its  own  proper  place.  One  thing  done  out  of 
its  time  and  place  makes  discord  in  the  music 
of  life,  just  as  one  note  misplaced  on  the  staff 
mars  the  harmony.  Each  life  is  a  building,  and 
the  little  acts  are  the  materials  used  ;  the  whole 
is  congruous  and  beautiful  only  when  every  act 
is  in  its  own  true  place.  Everything  is  beautiful 
in  its  time,  but  out  of  time  the  loveliest  acts  lose 
much  of  their  loveliness. 


'  "  Far  better  in  its  place  the  lowliest  bird 

Should  sing  aright  to  Him  the  lowliest  song, 
Than  that  a  seraph  strayed  should  take  the  word 
And  sing  His  glory  wrong." 


THE   BEGINNING.  13 

"'The  art  of  true  living  consists  largely 
therefore  in  doing  always  the  thing  that  be- 
longs to  the  moment.  But  how  to  know  what  is 
the  duty  of  each  moment  is  a  question  which  to 
many  is  full  of  perplexity.  Yet  it  would  be  easy 
if  our  obedience  were  but  more  simple.  We 
have  but  to  take  the  duty  that  comes  next  to 
our  hand  —  that  which  the  moment  brings. 
"Doe  ye  nexte  thynge,"  says  the  quaint  old 
Saxon  legend.  Our  duty  is  never  some  far- 
away thing.  We  do  not  have  to  search  for  it ; 
it  is  always  close  at  hand  and  easily  found. 
The  trouble  is  that  we  complicate  the  question 
of  duty  for  ourselves  by  our  way  of  looking  at 
life,  and  then  get  our  feet  entangled  in  the 
meshes  which  our  own  hands  have  woven. 

"'If  this  is  the  way  God  guides,  it  never 
ought  to  be  hard  for  us  to  find  our  duty.  It 
never  lies  far  away,  inaccessible  to  us,  but  is 
always  near,  always  "ye  nexte  thynge."  It 
never  lies  out  of  our  sight  in  the  darkness,  for 
God  never  puts  our  duty  where  we  cannot  see 
it.  The  thing  that  we  think  may  be  our  duty, 
but  which  is  still  lying  in  obscurity  and  uncer- 
tainty, is  not  our  duty  yet,  whatever  it  may  be  a 
little  farther  on.  The  duty  for  the  very  moment 
is  always  clear,  and  that  is  as  far  as  we  need  con- 
cern ourselves,  for  when  we  do  the  little  that  is 


14  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

clear,  we  will  carry  the  light  on,  and  it  will 
shine  on  the  next  moment's  step.' ' 

"If  the  'nexte  thynges'  were  only  labelled," 
sighed  Christie:  "but  how  can  I  tell  whether  I 
am  just  following  my  own  fancy  or  really  doing 
what  has  been  planned  for  me?" 

"There  is  an  answer  here  to  your  question," 
said  Aunt  Patience;  "if  you  are  not  tired  of  lis- 
tening, I  will  read  it  to  you  :  '  Prompt,  unques- 
tioning, undoubting  following  of  Christ  takes  all 
the  perplexity  out  of  Christian  life,  and  gives 
unbroken  peace.  There  is  something  for  every 
moment,  and  duty  is  always  "  ye  nexte  thynge." 
It  may  sometimes  be  an  interruption,  setting 
aside  a  cherished  plan  of  our  own,  breaking 
into  a  pleasant  rest  for  which  we  had  arranged, 
or  taking  us  away  from  a  favorite  occupation. 
It  may  be  to  meet  a  disappointment,  to  take  up 
a  cross,  to  endure  a  sorrow,  or  to  pass  through 
a  trial.  It  may  be  to  go  up-stairs  and  be  sick 
for  a  time,  letting  go  one's  hold  on  all  active 
life;  or  it  may  be  just  the  plainest,  commonest 
bit  of  routine,  daily  work  in  the  house,  in  the 
office,  on  the  farm,  at  school.  Most  of  us  find 
the  greater  number  of  our  "nexte  thynges"  in 
the  tasks  that  are  the  same,  day  after  day,  yet 
even  in  the  interstices  ami'd  these  set  tasks, 
there  come  a  thousand  little  things  of  kindness, 


THE    BEGINNING.  15 

patience,  gentleness,  though tfulness,  obliging- 
ness, like  the  sweet  flowers  that  grow  in  the 
crevices  between  the  cold  hard  rocks ;  and  we 
should  always  be  ready  for  these  as  we  hurry 
along,  as  well  as  for  the  sterner  duties  that  our 
common  calling  brings  to  us.'  " 


16  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   LAST  MESSAGE. 

"THAT  is  lovely!"  exclaimed  Christie  impul- 
sively, as  the  quiet  voice  ceased.  "Why,  it 
makes  living  such  an  easy  thing,  and  yet  such  a 
grand  thing  too.  It  sounds  as  simple  as  working 
a  sampler,  one  stitch  after  another,  in  its  right 
place,  and  the  pattern  just  seems  to  grow  natu- 
rally without  any  special  effort.  I  am  so  glad 
you  read  me  that,  Aunt  Patience.  Where  did 
you  find  such  helpful  thoughts?" 

Aunt  Patience  handed  Christie  the  volume 
that  lay  in  her  lap. 

"Your  favorite  author,  I  see,"  Christie  said 
with  a  smile,  as  she  read  the  title  "Practical 
Religion."  "  It  was  just  exactly  what  I  needed, 
and  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  glean- 
ing it  for  me.  I  know  I  shall  accomplish  ever 
so  much  more  if  I  content  myself  with  '  nexte 
thynges'  instead  of  looking  way  ahead  all  the 
time;  and  even  if  they  are  little  bits  of  things, 
they  must  be  worth  doing  if  they  are  all  planned 
for  me." 

"The  ministry  of  'nexte  thynges'  is  a  very 


A   LAST   MESSAGE.  17 

helpful  ministry,"  said  Aunt  Patience,  "and 
even  if  they  may  seem  very  small  sometimes 
and  hardly  worth  doing,  yet  after  all  it  is  these 
little  things  that  make  most  of  the  sunshine  and 
brightness  of  life.  It  is  not  given  to  many  to 
do  great  things,  but  we  can  all  consecrate  our- 
selves to  a  ministry  of  helpfulness  in  little  things. 
I  have  thought  so  often,  dear,  that  if  you  were 
watchful  for  little  opportunities,  you  could  do 
so  much  to  brighten  the  lives  of  all  with  whom 
you  come  in  contact.  You  can  influence  your 
friends  so  readily,  and  it  is  so  easy  for  you  to 
say  sympathetic  encouraging  things,  that  you 
could  make  many  a  rough  path  smooth  for  those 
whose  lives  are  less  happy  than  your  own.  I 
can  fancy  all  the  good  you  would  do  if  you  lived 
up  to  your  possibilities  of  Christian  usefulness; 
and  it  is  my  prayer  for  you,  Christie,  that  you 
may  not  be  content  with  simply  drifting,  but 
may  really  make  your  life  a  helpful  one.  A 
consecrated  life  doesn't  mean  a  solemn,  joyless 
one,  but  it  ought  to  be  brighter  and  happier 
than  one  which  is  lived  just  for  self  and  selfish 
aims." 

"I  do  want  to  make  my  life  a  consecrated 
one,"  said  Christie  softly.  "You  know  I  do, 
don't  you,  Aunt  Patience?  I  can't  talk  about 
such  things  to  other  people,  and  because  I  am 


i8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

full  of  fun  and  enjoy  good  times  so  much,  every 
one  thinks  I  am  frivolous  and  worldly;  but  I 
know  you  understand  me  better  than  that.  You 
know  I  am  not  satisfied  just  to  live  for  myself, 
though  I  don't  seem  to  do  much  else." 

"You  want  to  live  for  Him  who  bought  you 
with  a  price,"  said  Aunt  Patience,  resting  her 
hand  again  upon  the  fair  hair.  "Yes,  Christie, 
I  know  you  better  than  to  think  that  you  are 
willing  to  live  for  self.  I  would  not  have  you 
less  happy  and  full  of  life.  God  has  bestowed 
upon  you  the  gift  of  a  sunshiny,  hopeful  nature, 
so  you  may  be  a  centre  of  happiness,  brighten- 
ing every  life  that  touches  yours,  and  it  would 
be  wrong  to  undervalue  it  and  try  to  change  it; 
but  you  can  consecrate  it,  just  as  truly  as  you 
can  any  gift  of  music  or  intellect,  to  God's 
service,  and  make  it  serve  him.  The  more 
winsome  and  lovable  a  Christian's  life  is,  the 
better  it  glorifies  Christ.  Try  to  live  for  him 
day  by  day,  dear,  and  instead  of  dreaming  of  the 
future  and  mapping  out  plans  for  yourself,  follow 
his  guidance,  and  be  content  to  '  doe  the  nexte 
thynge,'  believing  that  it  is  a  step  in  the  path 
in  which  he  would  lead  you." 

The  peaceful  afternoon  was  drawing  to  its 
close,  and  the  west  was  already  beginning  to 
glow  with  the  evening  fires.  The  silver  tinkle 


A    LAST  MESSAGE.  19 

of  a  bell  broke  the  silence,  and  Christie  looked 
up  with  a  little  sigh. 

"If  I  could  always  be  with  you,  Aunt  Pa- 
tience, I  believe  I  could  be  good,"  she  said. 
"You  always  help  me  so,  and  I  am  better  for 
just  looking  at  you,  I  do  believe;  you  don't 
know  how  I  love  yon,"  and  she  pressed  her  lips 
impulsively  to  the  soft  cheek.  "  I  must  go  now, 
for  I  hear  the  tea  bell  ringing,  so  I  will  leave 
my  roses  with  you  for  company.  I  brought 
them  over  on  purpose  for  you,  and  here  I  have 
been  keeping  them  myself  all  this  time.  Good- 
by;  I  shall  try  to  remember  our  talk,  and  per- 
haps it  will  save  me  from  getting  into  such 
tangles  as  I  so  often  do.  Living  is  such  a 
mixed  up  thing  with  me,  but  it  seems  simple 
enough  when  I  am  with  you." 

"You  will  find  it  easy,  dear,  if  you  will  let 
it  be  so,"  replied  Aunt  Patience.  "Just  give 
up  your  own  planning  and  care-taking,  and 
simply  'Doe  the  nexte  thynge.'" 

The  words  lingered  in  Christie's  thoughts 
as  she  left  her  friend  and  retraced  her  steps 
homeward,  looking  back  as  she  reached  the  gate 
to  wave  a  last  farewell. 

"Isn't  she  just  a  picture,  sitting  there  with 
the  roses  in  her  hands,  and  her  face  so  peaceful 
and  loving!"  thought  Christie.  "I  should  be 


20  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

happy  if  I  thought  my  life  could  ever  be  like 
hers,  for  she  is  such  a  dear  old  saint  that  it 
makes  one  want  to  be  good  just  to  look  at  her." 

By  the  time  the  evening  meal  was  concluded 
the  bells  were  ringing  their  first  summons  to 
church,  and  Christie  hurried  away,  for  she  had 
promised  to  try  over  an  anthem  with  the  choir 
before  the  service  should  begin. 

She  wondered  not  a  little  at  the  unusual 
absence  of  her  father  and  mother,  for  they  had 
expected  to  follow  her  a  little  later;  and  she  was 
glad  when  the  last  hymn  had  been  sung,  that 
she  might  hasten  home  to  see  what  had  detained 
them.  Her  mother  met  her  at  the  gate. 

"Why,  mother,  I  was  afraid  you  were  sick 
or  something  had  happened,  when  I  did  not  see 
you  at  church,"  exclaimed  Christie,  feeling  a 
vague  sense  of  alarm  at  something  in  her  mo- 
ther's manner.  "Something  has  happened;  you 
have  tears  in  your  eyes.  Oh,  mother,  what  is  it?" 

"Hush,  dear,  do  not  be  frightened,"  and  her 
mother  drew  Christie  gently  down  beside  her 
upon  the  porch  steps.  "Dear  Aunt  Patience 
has  gone  home." 

"Oh,  mother,  she  is  n't  dead;  you  don't  mean 
that!"  sobbed  Christie,  clinging  to  her  mother, 
as  if  she  feared  that  she,  too,  might  be  taken 
away  from  her. 


A   LAST   MESSAGE.  21 

"You  will  not  think  of  it  as  death,  darling, 
when  you  see  her,"  the  mother  answered  gently. 
"It  is  the  sleep  which  God  gives  his  beloved, 
so  peaceful  and  calm.  It  must  have  been  just 
after  you  left  her  this  evening,  Christie  dear, 
for  when  they  went  out  to  call  her  they  found 
her  sitting  there  as  she  had  been  all  the  after- 
noon, with  a  smile  upon  her  face  and  her  hands 
full  of  your  roses.  Her  life  had  closed  as  peace- 
fully and  tranquilly  as  this  Sabbath  afternoon, 
and  as  the  sunshine  grew  dim  here,  she  entered 
into  heaven's  glory,  without  a  pang  or  parting 
sorrow.  We  must  rejoice  in  her  happiness,  dar- 
ling, and  not  think  of  our  own  loss." 

But  Christie's  tears  flowed  fast,  and  for  a 
time  she  could  not  be  comforted.  All  her  life 
she  had  known  and  loved  Aunt  Patience,  and 
few  had  known  how  warm  and  deep  the  friend- 
ship was  that  existed  between  the  two.  Christie 
felt  as  if  she  could  not  spare  this  helpful  friend 
out  of  her  life,  and  she  longed  to  feel  the  loving 
touch  of  her  hand  again  and  listen  to  her  words 
of  helpfulness.  She  had  an  instinctive  fear  of 
death,  too,  and  it  terrified  her  to  think  that 
Aunt  Patience  was  in  the  cold  embrace  of  that 
last  enemy.  This  feeling  vanished,  however, 
when  later  she  accompanied  her  mother  over  to 
the  little  cottage  where  a  knot  of  crape  already 


22  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT   THINGS. 

made  a  sombre  blot  in  the  moonlight,  and 
looked  upon  the  quiet  features  which  had 
reflected  every  emotion  but  a  few  short  hours 
ago. 

There  was  nothing  dreadful  about  that  placid 
face  and  the  hands  folded  restfully;  and  as 
Christie  looked  through  a  mist  of  blinding  tears 
at  the  features  she  loved  so  dearly,  she  felt  com- 
forted, and  some  of  the  peace  that  illumined 
them  crept  into  her  heart. 

She  was  so  glad  now  that  she  had  spent  that 
last  hour  with  Aunt  Patience;  it  made  heaven 
seem  more  real  and  near  to  her  to  think  that 
she  had  so  lately  been  conversing  with  one  who 
was  now  one  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  heavenly 
city,  and  she  was  sure  that  she  would  never  for- 
get those  last  words  of  loving  counsel. 

She  lay  awake  long  that  night,  her  thoughts 
full  of  Aunt  Patience  and  the  beautiful  life  that 
had  passed  away  so  peacefully  as  the  sunset 
gates  stood  ajar;  and  thinking  of  the  glories  into 
which  she  had  entered,  she  could  almost  rejoice 
even  while  her  heart  ached  with  a  sense  of  loss. 

A  few  days  later  a  piece  of  paper  was  found 
in  the  well-worn  Bible,  upon  which  were  in- 
scribed some  verses  in  the  familiar  tremulous 
writing,  and  upon  the  outside  of  the  page  was 
pencilled  "  For  Christie." 


A    LAST   MESSAGE.  23 

When  Christie  read  the  lines  she  knew  that 
Aunt  Patience  had  copied  them  for  her  with  the 
thought  in  her  heart  that  had  been  the  subject 
of  her  last  conversation ;  and  she  prized  the 
feebly  traced  lines  all  the  more  because  they 
had  come  to  her  as  Aunt  Patience's  last  mes- 
sage: 

"  DOE  YE  NEXTE  THYNGE." 

From  an  old  English  parsonage 

Down  by  the  sea 
There  came  in  the  twilight 

A  message  to  me. 
Its  quaint  Saxon  legend. 

Deeply  engraven, 
Hath,  as  it  seems  to  me, 

Teaching  from  heaven ; 
And  through  the  hours 

The  quiet  words  ring 
Like  a  low  inspiration : 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 

Many  a  questioning. 

Many  a  fear, 
Many  a  doubt 

Hath  its  quieting  here. 
Moment  by  moment, 

Let  down  from  heaven, 
Time,  opportunity, 

Guidance,  are  given. 
Fear  not  to-morrows, 

Child  of  the  King; 
Trust  them  with  Jesus. 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 


24  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT   THINGS. 

Do  it  immediately, 

Do  it  with  prayer, 
Do  it  reliantly, 

Casting  off  care. 
Do  it  with  reverence , 

Tracing  his  hand 
Who  lays  it  before  thee 

With  earnest  command. 
Stayed  on  Omnipotence, 

Safe  'neath  his  wing, 
Leave  Him  the  issue  : 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 

Christie  read  the  quaint  lines  over  again  and 
again,  before  she  folded  the  paper  and  laid  it 
away  among  the  treasures  in  her  desk. 

She  could  hear  Aunt  Patience's  voice  again, 
as  its  accents  had  fallen  upon  her  ears  for  the 
last  time  in  the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath  twilight, 
u  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge,"  and  she  determined  that 
by  this  watchword  she  would  guide  her  life. 
She  would  no  longer  yearn  for  a  future  full  of 
grand  possibilities,  but  she  would  tread  the  path 
that  stretched  before  her  girlhood's  feet,  content 
to  be  led.  For  the  sake  of  the  Saviour  to  whom 
she  had  consecrated  her  young  life,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  dear  friend  who  had  done  so  much 
to  lead  her  to  Christ,  she  would  take  upon  her- 
self the  ministry  of  helpfulness,  willing  only  to 
do  the  dutv  of  each  hour  in  his  name. 


THE  CLASS   MOTTO.  25 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  CLASS  MOTTO. 

THE  seven  seniors  of  Maplewood  Institute 
Were  holding  an  informal  meeting  under  the  old 
elm  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn.  Class-meetings  were 
events  of  daily  and  sometimes  semi-daily  occur- 
rence, there  were  so  many  momentous  matters 
connected  with  their  graduation  to  decide  upon. 

"What  shall  we  have?"  Grace  Davenport 
had  asked,  and  the  question  had  called  forth  a 
perfect  babel  of  answers. 

"Don't  let's  have  a  Latin  motto,  whatever 
else  we  have!"  exclaimed  Ella  Lindsay.  "I 
think  every  Latin  remark  that  was  ever  made  has 
been  tortured  into  a  class  motto  by  some  of  the 
Maplewood  graduates,  and  I  believe  the  seniors 
last  year  couldn't  find  a  motto  left  but  'Excel- 
sior. '  I  know  they  worked  harder  to  find  one  than 
they  did  to  choose  the  subjects  for  their  essays." 

"Don't  have  a  French  one  either,"  chimed 
in  Elsie  Dunning.  "That  would  be  so  frivolous 
for  a  class  that  pretend  to  the  common  sense  and 
practical  wisdom  that  we  claim." 

"What    can    we   have,   then?"    asked    Ella 


26  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

Lindsay.  "Surely  you  don't  want  us  to  be 
commonplace  enough  to  take  one  of  Poor  Rich- 
ard's proverbs  !" 

"  'Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  can  be 
done  to-day,'  "  laughed  Louise  Rush  ton.  "  I  am 
afraid  I  should  hear  too  much  about  the  peculiar 
appropriateness  of  that  motto  if  we  decided  upon 
it.  I  believe  I  would  rather  be  frivolous  and 
choose  an  untranslatable  French  motto." 

Every  one  laughed,  for  Louise  was  noted  for 
her  easy-going  procrastination. 

A  sudden  remembrance  brought  an  eager 
flush  to  Christie's  cheek. 

"Oh,  I  know  of  one  that  we  could  have  that 
would  be  just  the  thing  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Is  it  sensible  ?"  asked  Elsie. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  exclaimed  Ella.  "Chris- 
tie, don't  notice  the  imputation  upon  your  good 
sense,  but  tell  us  what  you  have  in  mind.  We 
are  eager  for  suggestions." 

Christie  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  girls," 
she  said  in  a  moment,  conquering  her  reluctance 
to  speak  of  Aunt  Patience's  last  words  to  her 
before  that  merry  group. 

As  she  began  the  laughing  faces  grew  earnest, 
for  there  was  not  one  among  them  who  had  not 
known  and  loved  the  dear  old  saint.  The  quaint 


THE   CLASS   MOTTO.  2/ 

old  Saxon  motto  was  unanimously  adopted  as  the 
class  legend,  perhaps  all  the  more  readily  be- 
cause it  would  be  so  closely  associated  with  their 
friend,  who  had  never  outgrown  her  sympathy 
with  young  girls. 

"  Doe  ye  nexte  thynge." 

Ella  Lindsay  pencilled  the  words  in  old 
English  characters  on  the  back  of  an  envelope, 
and  held  it  up  for  the  girls'  inspection. 

"That  will  be  so  pretty,"  said  Louise,  with 
a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction,  "  and  it 's  such  a  tan- 
gible sort  of  motto.  One  can  take  hold  of  it  and 
fit  it  in  for  real  use.  It  is  n't  one  of  those  vague, 
soaring  aspirations  that  are  always  out  of  your 
reach." 

"I'm  glad  the  question  of  a  motto  is  settled," 
said  Florence  Dinsmore.  "Now  we  must  give 
our  minds  up  to  the  question  of  dress,  and  really 
come  to  a  decision  to-day,  for  we  have  only  two 
weeks  before  us." 

"  Shall  we  wear  white,  or  any  color  that  suits 
us  best?"  asked  Elsie,  her  mind  rather  unde- 
cided between  the  merits  of  a  pale  blue  surah 
which  had  been  a  recent  birthday  gift,  or  an 
elaborate  white,  which  would  have  to  be  a  new 
acquisition  to  her  wardrobe. 

"If  we  all  wear  white  the  class  would  be  in 
uniform  as  far  as  color,  or,  to  speak  more  cor- 


28  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

rectly,  lack  of  color,  went,  and  yet  we  would 
have  an  opportunity  for  individuality  too,"  said 
Ella  Lindsay. 

"I  vote  for  colors,"  exclaimed  Achsah  Howe 
in  tones  that  were  almost  sharp,  they  were  so 
eager. 

"  Ishmael  has  her  mind  quite  made  up,  at  all 
events,"  laughed  Louise  Rushton.  "Now  I  hope 
all  the  rest  of  us  who  are  equally  fortunate  will 
express  our  preferences  quite  as  unreservedly." 

Christie  glanced  at  the  thin,  sharp-featured 
face  of  the  girl  sitting  next  to  her  with  a  sudden 
curiosity.  Why  was  she  so  anxious  for  colors  to 
be  decided  upon  ?  It  was  no  trifling  matter  to 
her,  to  judge  from  her  suppressed  eagerness. 

Achsah  Howe  was  "queer;"  her  schoolmates 
had  decided  upon  that  before  she  had  been 
twenty-four  hours  in  the  Institute,  and  now,  at 
the  close  of  the  three  years  she  had  spent  among 
them,  they  had  seen  no  reason  to  change  their 
opinion. 

She  was  the  one  boarder  at  the  school,  and 
had  never  been  home  for  her  vacations,  nor  had 
friends  ever  visited  her.  She  was  not  an  attrac- 
tive or  prepossessing  girl,  yet  she  had  won  for 
herself  a  certain  place  in  the  respect  of  her 
schoolmates,  if  not  in  their  liking. 

She  had  delicate  features,  which  might  have 


THE  CLASS  MOTTO.  29 

been  pleasant  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  half- 
defiant,  half-fretful  expression  which  marred 
them.  Her  complexion  was  a  clear  dark  olive, 
which,  with  her  bright  dark  eyes  and  black  hair, 
gave  her  a  foreign  aspect 

No  one  could  accuse  her  of  vanity,  for  she 
evidently  paid  no  attention  to  her  personal  ap- 
pearance. Christie  had  fancied  sometimes  that 
there  was  a  certain  defiance  in  the  way  in  which 
she  brushed  her  hair  straight  from  her  forehead 
and  twisted  it  into  a  hard,  uncompromising  knot 
in  the  back,  and  in  the  straight  linen  bands 
around  her  neck,  instead  of  the  ruching  which 
might  have  lent  a  softness  to  her  face. 

Achsah's  wardrobe  had  always  been  a  subject 
for  much  private  speculation  and  amusement 
among  her  classmates,  although  not  one  of  them 
had  ever  been  guilty  of  the  discourtesy  of  open 
ridicule. 

Her  dresses  were  old-fashioned  in  texture  and 
pattern,  and  were  made  with  little  regard  to  the 
prevailing  styles. 

Achsah  might  have  made  some  slight  altera- 
tions in  them  herself,  which  would  have  made 
her  appearance  less  singular,  but  she  wore  her 
odd  garments  with  the  greatest  unconcern  appar- 
ently, and  walked  all  the  more  proudly  when  she 
differed  most  from  her  schoolmates. 


30  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT  THINGS. 

Her  manner  was  sharp  even  to  irritability, 
and  she  was  apt  to  differ  decisively  from  every 
opinion  that  her  classmates  expressed. 

"Ishmael,"  the  irrepressible  Louise  had 
dubbed  her,  and  the  sobriquet  expressed  her  pe- 
culiar disposition  so  well  that  it  had  become  gen- 
erally adopted  among  the  girls. 

Achsah  had  never  objected  to  it  in  any  way, 
so  she  quite  as  often  answered  to  that  title  as  to 
her  own  name.  She  had  no  special  friend,  nor 
indeed  had  she  ever  seemed  to  care  for  the  com- 
pany of  the  girls.  During  the  last  year,  when 
matters  of  general  interest  to  the  class  were  being 
talked  over,  she  formed  one  of  the  group  and 
expressed  her  opinion  with  her  usual  freedom 
upon  any  subject  that  was  under  discussion,  but 
at  other  times  she  held  herself  aloof. 

Achsah's  individuality  was  as  marked  in  her 
classes  as  anywhere  else.  She  was  undoubtedly 
a  talented  girl;  but  in  addition  to  her  talent  she 
was  ambitious  and  energetic,  and  never  rested 
content  with  less  than  absolute  perfection  in  her 
recitations. 

She  had  completed  in  three  years  the  course 
of  study  over  which  her  classmates  had  spent  five 
years,  but  there  had  been  nothing  superficial  in 
her  acquirements.  She  had  ranked  first  at  every 
examination,  and  none  of  her  schoolmates  could 


THE   CLASS    MOTTO.  31 

remember  that  Achsah  had  ever  failed  in  a 
single  recitation. 

No  one  could  withhold  respect  and  admira- 
tion for  Achsah' s  abilities,  and  she  seemed  to 
take  a  grim  pleasure  in  compelling  from  them 
the  admission  that  intellectually  she  was  the 
leader  of  the  school,  notwithstanding  her  appear- 
ance and  manners. 

"  Well,  Christie,  what  is  your  choice?" 

Christie  started.  She  had  been  so  absorbed 
in  her  thoughts  that  she  had  not  heard  Louise, 
till  the  question  was  repeated. 

She  could  feel  Achsah' s  eyes  resting  upon 
her  with  an  eager,  almost  pleading  gaze.  It  was 
evident  that  she  was  very  much  interested  in 
the  decision.  Christie  knew  it  made  no  differ- 
ence in  her  own  case.  Her  preference  would 
have  been  for  white,  but  whether  she  cast  her 
vote  for  white  or  colored  attire,  her  graduation 
dress  was  to  be  a  present  from  the  aunt  whose 
namesake  she  was. 

"I  believe  I  will  vote  for  colors,"  she  said, 
after  a  moment's  thoughtful  pause,  and  there 
was  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  Achsah's  eager 
face  as  she  heard  Christie's  words. 

"Grace,  what  do  you  say?" 

UI  have  no  preference,"  said  Grace  Daven- 
port. "I  will  do  whatever  the  majority  of  the 


32  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

class  decide  to  do.  It  doesn't  make  any  differ- 
ence to  me." 

"Grace  is  as  unconcerned  about  her  dress 
as  if  she  was  one  of  the  lilies  of  the  field," 
interposed  Louise.  "Well,  I  suppose  if  my 
wardrobe  was  inexhaustible,  and  I  was  com- 
fortably certain  that  without  any  exertion  upon 
my  part  the  most  stylish  and  becoming  of  gar- 
ments would  be  duly  provided,  I  could  be  un- 
concerned too.  Unfortunately  there  is  always 
a  prospect  before  me  of  having  to  evolve  my 
dresses  out  of  nothingness,  so  I  have  to  put  my 
wits  to  work  and  do  a  good  deal  of  toiling  to 
make  sure  of  them.  Ella,  let  us  hear  from  you 
now. ' ' 

"My  preference  is  decidedly  for  white," 
Ella  answered.  "I  think  it  is  so  much  more 
suitable  than  anything  else  could  be." 

Achsah's  face  clouded  over  with  anxiety 
again,  as  Florence  and  Elsie  also  lent  their 
voices  in  favor  of  white;  and  when  Louise  finally 
declared  that  she  should  determine  as  the  ma- 
jority had,  Christie  heard  a  sigh  escape  from 
the  parted  lips. 

"White  it  is  then,"  proclaimed  Louise,  who 
had  been  the  self-appointed  chairman  of  the 
meeting.  "There  is  the  bell.  We  hadn't  a 
moment  to  spare,  for  Miss  Denning  never  seems 


THE  cfLASS    MOTTO.  33 

to  remember  that  \ve  would  like  to  have  recess 
extended  a  little  when  we  are  discussing  such 
weighty  affairs  as  graduation  dresses  and  other 
important  matters." 

"I  don't  intend  to  wear  white,  at  any  rate," 
interposed  Achsah  decisively.  "I  don't  think 
it's  a  matter  for  the  whole  class  to  decide  any- 
way, so  I  shall  wear  just  what  I  like.  It  may 
be  white  and  it  may  be  yellow,  but  it  will  be 
my  own  choice." 

"Well,  Ishmael,  you  will  lose  your  last 
chance  of  unanimity,"  as  a  look  of  annoyance 
gathered  upon  the  faces  of  the  other  girls  at 
what  they  considered  Achsah' s  characteristic 
perverseness.  "You've  never  agreed  with  us 
yet  about  anything,  and  so  I  suppose  you  feel 
a  natural  pride  in  preserving  an  unbroken  record 
of  contrariness.  We  can't  compel  you  to  do  as 
the  rest  of  us  do,  so  if  you  prefer  to  be  different, 
you  may  of  course." 

Christie  at  first  shared  the  annoyance  of  the 
other  girls;  but  as  she  pored  over  her  Mental 
Philosophy  she  wondered  whether  there  might 
not  be  some  other  reason  for  Achsah 's  persis- 
tence. Perhaps  she  had  no  white  dress,  and 
could  not  get  one  for  the  occasion  which  was  so 
great  an  event  in  the  eyes  of  the  Maplewood 
girls  and  their  friends.  This  thought  softened 


34  CHRISTIE'S  NEX*T  THINGS. 

tlie  vexation  with  which  she  had  listened  to 
Achsah's  defiant  refusal  to  yield  to  the  will  of 
the  majority,  and  she  determined  to  make  an 
effort  to  win  the  confidence  of  the  proud,  reserved 
girl. 

Her  conscience  smote  her  as  she  remembered 
that  during  the  three  years  of  their  intercourse 
at  the  same  school  she  had  never  showed  Ach- 
sah  any  kindness,  nor  indeed  had  any  of  the 
other  girls.  True,  Achsah  had  rather  repelled 
than  invited  any  advances  on  the  part  'of  her 
schoolmates,  but  her  life  must  have  been  a  very 
lonely  one,  unbrightened  by  any  of  the  friend- 
ships which  girls  cherish  so  warmly  during  their 
school-days. 

Perhaps  this  was  one  of  the  lives  of  which 
Aunt  Patience  had  spoken  to  her,  whose  rough 
places  she  might  make  smoother  by  a  little 
effort.  Perhaps  her  "  nexte  thynge"  might  be 
to  do  something  for  Achsah  Howe. 


ACHSAH   HOWE.  35 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ACHSAH   HOWE. 

"MOTHER,  may  I  ask  Achsali  Howe  to  take 
tea  with  us  Saturday  afternoon?"  asked  Christie, 
looking  up  from  a  brown  study  in  which  she 
had  been  indulging  for  some  time. 

"I  have  no  objection,"  answered  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert. "But  why  Achsah?  Wouldn't  you 
rather  have  some  of  the  other  girls?" 

"Yes,  I  would  rather,"  Christie  answered, 
"but  just  now  Achsah  Howe  looks  to  me  like 
my  'nexte  thynge;'  and  though  it's  rather  late 
to  begin,  I  should  like  to  show  her  some  little 
attention  before  she  goes  away." 

"We'll  try  and  give  her  a  pleasant  time 
to-morrow  then,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  answered,  and 
Christie  knew  that  Achsah  would  be  welcomed 
in  the  motherly  way  that  made  Mrs.  Gilbert  such 
a  favorite  among  the  young  girls,  and  would 
have  for  a  few  hours  a  share  in  the  home  circle 
and  home  life. 

"I  wonder  if  any  other  girl  ever  had  a 
mother  who  understood  and  entered  into  every- 
thing as  you  do,  motherdie,"  she  said,  as  she 


36  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT  THINGS. 

took  up  her  wide  garden  hat  and  left  her  com- 
fortable perch  in  the  hammock.  "I'm  going 
round  to  invite  Achsah  at  once,  so  she  may  not 
make  any  other  plan  for  to-morrow  afternoon; 
though  I  think  it  is  rather  an  unnecessary  pre- 
caution, for  I  don't  believe  she  has  had  a  single 
invitation  since  she  has  been  at  the  Institute. 
I  am  quite  curious  to  know  what  she  will  say 
when  I  ask  her." 

It  was  not  a  long  walk  to  the  Institute,  and 
Christie  sauntered  leisurely  down  the  elm- 
shaded  street,  while  her  mother  looked  after 
the  graceful  girlish  figure  with  loving  pride, 
the  pleasant  smile  which  Christie's  affectionate 
compliment  had  brought  still  lingering  on  her 
comely  features. 

"I  wonder  how  I  should  feel  if  I  were  in 
Achsah's  place,"  Christie  reflected.  "She  must 
have  such  a  lonely  life,  for  all  the  rest  of  us 
girls  have  such  a  good  time  together,  and  she 
never  has  a  share  in  any  of  the  fun.  Perhaps 
she  can't  help  being  queer,  any  more  than  she 
can  help  her  dreadful  clothes,  though  she  never 
seems  to  mind  wearing  them.  I  wonder  why 
she  doesn't  want  to  wear  a  white  dress  like  the 
rest.  I  am  going  to  try  and  get  her  to  tell  me 
to-morrow,  and  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  help 
her  a  little  in  some  wav." 


ACHSAH    HOWE.  37 

She  had  reached  the  Institute  by  this  time 
and  glanced  up  at  Achsah's  window  to  see  if 
her  schoolmate  was  visible. 

u  Is  Miss  Achsah  in?"  she  asked  the  trim 
maid  who  was  rubbing  up  the  door-plate. 

"Yes,  Miss  Christie,  she's  up  in  her  room. 
Will  you  walk  up,  or  shall  I  tell  her  you're 
here?" 

"I'll  just  run  up,  thank  you,  Kitty,"  and 
Christie  went  lightly  up  the  long  flight,  won- 
dering if  Achsah  would  be  glad  or  sorry  when 
the  time  came  for  her  to  leave  the  walls  in  which 
she  had  spent  the  last  three  years. 

She  tapped  at  Achsah's  door,  but  there  was 
no  response,  though  she  was  sure  she  heard  a 
noise  within  that  sounded  like  a  stifled  sob. 

She  repeated  her  knock  after  a  few  moments, 
but  still  Achsah  paid  no  heed,  and  Christie 
turned  away  feeling  a  little  aggrieved.  It  was 
rather  disappointing,  when  she  had  come  upon 
an  errand  of  kindness,  to  be  refused  admission, 
though  of  course  Achsah  did  not  know  who 
was  knocking  at  her  door;  but  perhaps  it  was 
just  as  well.  Very  likely  Achsah  was  quite  con- 
tented with  her  isolation,  and  was  not  as  much 
in  need  of  friendship  as  Christie  had  fancied. 

She  had  retraced  her  steps  as  far  as  the  head 
of  the  stairs  when  the  low  sound  of  convul- 


38  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

sive  sobbing  reached  her  again  and  made  her 
pause. 

"Perhaps  Achsah  is  sick  or  in  some  great 
trouble,"  she  thought.  "  I  am  going  back  to  see 
if  she  will  not  let  me  in." 

Swiftly  returning  to  the  door,  she  turned  the 
handle  and  called  gently, 

"Achsah,  may  I  come  in?" 

Through  the  partly  opened  door  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Achsah,  lying  prone  upon  the  bed 
in  an  attitude  of  distress,  with  her  face  buried 
in  her  pillow,  while  her  slender  figure  was  shak- 
ing with  the  sobs  she  could  not  wholly  control. 

She  lifted  a  flushed,  defiant  face  as  Christie 
crossed  the  room  without  waiting  for  permission 
to  enter. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked  coldly. 
"I  should  have  answered  when  you  knocked 
if  I  had  wanted  to  see  any  one." 

Christie's  sympathies  were  too  much  aroused 
by  the  tear-stained  face  and  quivering  lips  to 
allow  her  to  be  easily  repelled  by  Achsah's  evi- 
dent annoyance. 

"  But  I  could  n't  go  away  and  know  you  were 
in  trouble,"  she  answered,  sitting  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed  and  taking  Achsah's  unwilling 
hand  in  her  own.  "Wont  you  let  me  help  you 
in  some  way,  or  at  least  share  in  your  trouble?" 


ACHSAH    HOWE.  39 

"It  isn't  anything  that  you  could  possibly 
understand,"  Achsah  answered  coldly.  "I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  going  to  any  one  for  help  or 
sympathy  when  I  am  in  trouble.  I  only  want  to 
be  let  alone." 

Christie  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  She 
did  not  feel  hurt  or  angry,  but  she  thought 
perhaps  Achsah  would  really  rather  be  left  alone 
with  her  trouble,  whatever  it  was.  While  she 
sat  in  thought  her  eyes  fell  upon  an  old  silk 
dress  that  had  evidently  been  taken  from  the 
paper  wrappings  that  were  strewed  beside  it  on 
the  floor. 

It  was  a  vivid  green,  soiled  and  faded,  with 
lace  trimmings  that  were  ragged  in  places,  and 
decidedly  the  worse  for  hard  wear.  Could  this 
dress  have  anything  to  do  with  Achsah's  grief? 
She  would  make  another  effort  to  gain  her  con- 
fidence before  she  left  her. 

"Achsah,"  she  said  gently,  with  a  warmer 
clasp  of  the  hand  that  lay  limply  in  her  own, 
"if  you  really  want  me  to  go  away,  I  will,  of 
course,  but  I  wish  you  would  treat  me  as  a 
friend.  I  know  I  don't  deserve  your  confidence, 
for  I  haven't  been  very  thoughtful  of  your  hap- 
piness the  years  we  have  been  together  here; 
but  I  want  to  make  up  for  it  now  if  you  will  let 
me.  Can't  you  trust  me,  dear,  and  let  me  help 


40  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

you  if  I  can  in  any  way?  I  can't  bear  to  go 
away  and  leave  you  so  unhappy." 

Achsah  tried  to  harden  her  heart  and  not 
yield  to  Christie's  pleading;  but  for  once,  re- 
served as  she  was,  it  seemed  as  if  her  burden 
was  too  heavy  to  be  borne  alone,  and  she  longed 
to  have  some  sympathy.  She  had  let  herself  be- 
come thoroughly  embittered  against  her  school- 
mates because  they  had  been  indifferent  to  her, 
forgetting  that  it  is  love  that  begets  love,  and 
the  cloak  of  defiant  reserve  in  which  she  had 
wrapped  herself  would  have  isolated  any  one 
of  the  others  quite  as  completely  as  it  had  iso- 
lated her. 

She  had  envied  Christie  the  love  which  all 
her  schoolmates  gave  her  so  freely,  and  she  had 
secretly  admired  the  tact  and  thoughtful  cour- 
tesy in  which  Christie  never  failed. 

To  have  Christie  for  a  friend  had  been  one 
of  the  longings  which  she  had  always  sternly  re- 
pressed as  too  unattainable  to  be  cherished;  yet 
here  was  this  same  Christie,  notwithstanding  all 
her  rebuffs,  pleading  to  be  allowed  to  comfort  her. 

She  tried  to  make  herself  believe  that  it  was 
only  idle  curiosity  that  prompted  the  interest; 
but  she  knew  better,  and,  after  a  short  struggle 
with  her  pride,  she  surrendered  to  the  charm 
of  Christie's  affectionate  solicitude. 


ACHSAH   HOWE.  41 

"I  am  so  perfectly  discouraged,"  she  said, 
with  a  quiver  in  her  voice.  "I  don't  want  you 
to  think  that  I  am  babyish  enough  to  mind  just 
this  one  disappointment  so  much,  but  it  is  just 
the  climax.  I  did  think  I  was  going  to  have 
a  nice  graduating  dress,  but  look  at  it,"  and 
with  a  gesture  of  disdain  she  indicated  the  gar- 
ment on  the  floor. 

''Perhaps  you  can  fix  it  over  in  some  way 
so  it  will  look  better,"  suggested  Christie,  trying 
to  comfort  her,  although  she  could  not  imagine 
any  way  herself  in  which  the  dress  could  be 
made  fit  for  anything  but  the  rag-bag. 

Achsah  shook  her  head.  "No,  there  is  no 
hope  of  its  ever  being  made  fit  to  wear,"  she 
said  despondingly.  "I  shall  have  to  wear  one 
of  my  school  dresses  and  be  a  disgrace  to  you 
all." 

Christie  was  silent.  She  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing comforting  with  all  her  heart,  but  she  felt 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  urge  Achsah  to 
content  herself  with  the  green  silk,  or  to  assure 
her  that  one  of  her  plain,  unbecoming  school 
dresses  would  be  a  suitable  dress  in  which-  to 
graduate.  "Talk  it  over  with  mother;  she  will 
know  just  what  to  do;  she  always  does,"  she' 
exclaimed,  feeling  that  if  there  was  any  way 
out  of  the  perplexity  her  mother  would  certainly 


42  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

be  able  to  suggest  if.  "I  came  over  to  ask  you 
if  you  wouldn't  spend  to-morrow  afternoon  with 
us  and  stay  to  tea;  but  if  you  could  come  now 
and  stay  all  night  it  would  be  ever  so  much 
better.  You  don't  know  what  a  mother  I've 
got,  Achsah;  I  tell  her  she  must  have  a  magi- 
cian's wand,  for  she  can  always  straighten  out 
every  tangle  and  make  things  come  out  just 
the  way  you  want  them,  and  I  know  she  will 
tell  us  just  what  to  do  about  your  dress.  You 
wouldn't  mind  telling  her  about  it,  would  you, 
dear?  Now  let  me  bathe  your  forehead  a  few 
minutes,  for  it  is  so  hot  I  know  you  have  been 
crying  yourself  into  a  headache,  and  then  when 
you  feel  rested  we  will  go  over  home." 

It  was  a  luxury  to  lonely,  unloved  Achsah 
to  lie  still  with  closed  eyes  and  feel  Christie's 
soft  wet  fingers  stroking  her  throbbing  head. 
She  involuntarily  shared  her  schoolmate's  be- 
lief that  the  question  of  her  graduation  dress 
would  be  satisfactorily  settled  when  Mrs.  Gilbert 
took  it  up,  and  the  new  sense  of  sympathy  com- 
forted her  for  the  disappointment  which  had 
seemed  too  bitter  to  bear  but  a  little  while 
ago. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  am  a  baby  to  cry 
my  eyes  out  about  such  a  foolish  thing  as  a 
dress,"  she  said  apologetically;  "but  I  had 


ACHSAH    HOWE.  43 

really  let  myself  believe  that  I  was  going  to 
look  like  the  rest  of  you  for  once,  and  so  when 
this  thing  came  a  little  while  ago,  I  couldn't 
help  giving  up  to  my  disappointment  One 
reason  why  I  was  so  anxious  that  the  class 
should  vote  in  favor  of  colors  was  that  I  knew 
I  could  not  have  a  white  dress.  Of  course  the 
girls  thought  I  was  just  ugly  about  it,  and  I 
don't  blame  them.  I  knew  it  did  seem  so,  but 
I  couldn't  help  it.  I  know  I  have  seemed  ugly 
and  hateful  so  often,  and  I  don't  wonder  Louise 
calls  me  Ishmael,  but  you  don't  know  how  hard 
everything  has  been  for  me,  Christie." 

"  I  do  n't  wonder  you  were  disappointed  about 
your  dress,  and  you  weren't  a  bit  babyish  to  cry 
about  it,"  Christie  said  comfortingly,  beginning 
to  realize  that  many  of  Achsah's  peculiarities 
might  have  been  the  result  of  circumstances 
rather  than  the  naturally  disagreeable  disposi- 
tion with  which  she  had  been  generally  ac- 
credited. 

"I  should  like  to  tell  you  why  I  have  had  to 
dress  so  differently  from  all  the  rest  of  ypu," 
said  Achsah,  after  a  short  silence.  "Perhaps 
you  don't  want  to  be  bothered  with  my  confi- 
dences though." 

"I  should  like  to  hear  anything  that  you  are 
willing  to  tell  me,  dear,"  Christie  answered, 


44  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

glad  that  Achsah  was  willing  to  lay  aside  her 
usual  reserve. 

"I  shall  have  to  begin  ten  years  back,"  said 
Achsah,  "or  you  will  not  understand  everything. 
My  father  was  a  home  missionary  out  West,  and 
I  can  remember  well  how  happy  the  first  seven 
years  of  my  life  were.  My  mother  must  have 
been  such  a  lovely  woman,  for  I  never  remem- 
ber her  as  anything  but  sweet  and  patient,  and 
sometimes  I  can  almost  fancy  now  that  I  feel 
her  arms  around  me.  My  father  was  a  very 
talented  man,  for  I  have  heard  since  that  he 
might  have  been  the  pastor  of  a  large  city 
church  if  he  had  not  felt  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  go  out  to  the  frontier;  and  I  never  dare  let 
rnyself  think  how  different  my  life  might  have 
been  if  they  had  lived.  I  remember  the  day 
when  father  and  mother  were  both  taken  away 
from  me.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold  day,  and  father 
was  sent  for  to  the  home  of  a  dying  child. 
Mother  was  ill,  and  she  was  afraid  to  have  him 
go  out  in  the  storm.  She  grew  anxious  when 
evening  came  and  the  storm  increased,  and  when 
the  night  wore  away  without  bringing  him,  she 
was  nearly  wild  with  anxiety.  In  the  morning 
he  was  brought  home.  He  had  lost  his  way 
and  had  perished  with  his  horse  in  the  snow. 
If  mother  had  been  well  perhaps  she  could  have 


Christie's  Next  Things.     Page  44. 


ACHSAH    HOWE.  45 

borne  the  terrible  shock,  but  three  days  after- 
ward, when  my  father  was  buried,  my  mother 
and  my  tiny  baby  sister  were  laid  beside  him." 

Christie's  eyes  filled  with  sympathetic  tears  as 
Achsah's  lips  quivered. 

"There  was  but  one  home  open  to  me,  and  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  have  been  very  grateful  that  I 
was  not  left  entirely  dependent  upon  the  charity 
of  strangers.  My  father's  half  sister  sent  for  me 
and  let  me  share  her  home  for  my  father's  sake, 
though  she  always  made  me  feel  that  I  was  un- 
welcome and  merely  tolerated  because  there  was 
nothing  else  to  be  done  with  me.  She  had  been 
very  kind  to  my  father  in  her  grim,  unloving 
way,  and  as  she  was  twenty  years  his  senior  she 
had  in  many  respects  taken  the  place  of  the  mo- 
ther he  had  lost  when  he  was  a  baby.  She  had 
never  had  any  sympathy  with  his  love  of  study, 
and  had  done  everything  in  her  power  to  dis- 
suade him  from  taking  a  college  course.  She 
never  forgave  him  for  not  taking  his  father's 
place  upon  the  farm,  and  when  I  came  under  her 
care  she  determined  that  I  at  least  should  be 
ruled  by  her,  and  not  have  any  more  education 
than  she  thought  was  necessary.  Young  as  I 
was,  I  realized  that  I  must  have  an  education  if  I 
was  ever  to  make  my  life  any  different  from  the 
narrow,  self-centred  life  of  the  old  farmhouse,  and 


46  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

I  would  study  in  spite  of  all  discouragements. 
When  I  had  learned  all  that  I  could  at  the  dis- 
trict school,  I  begged  her  to  let  me  go  away  some- 
where and  finish  my  education,  promising  to 
repay  with  interest  all  that  it  would  cost  her  as 
soon  as  I  was  fitted  to  teach.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  she  would  listen  to  rne  at  all;  but  at  last, 
when  she  found  that  I  was  perfectly  determined 
to  learn  more,  and  would  never  be  satisfied  with 
a  life  of  drudgery  in  the  farmhouse,  she  told  me 
that  my  father  had  left  a  few  hundred  dollars 
which  she  had  never  touched,  and  if  I  chose  to 
'waste  it,'  as  she  expressed  it,  upon  an  educa- 
tion, I  might;  but  I  needn't  expect  any  help 
from  her.  It  was  enough  for  her  to  give  me  my 
time  when  she  might  have  reasonably  expected 
me  to  be  of  some  assistance  to  her,  after  all  the 
years  I  had  been  too  young  to  be  of  use. 

"  I  was  too  glad  of  her  consent  to  mind  how 
grudgingly  it  had  been  given.  I  found  I  had 
just  enough  money  to  enable  me  to  graduate  here, 
if  I  could  complete  the  course  in  three  years;  but 
then  the  question  of  clothing  came  up.  I  had 
my  mother's  dresses  and  the  contents  of  a  mis- 
sionary-box which  had  been  received  a  few 
weeks  before  my  father's  death.  I  found  I  could 
wear  the  clothes  with  very  little  alteration, 
though  I  could  see  that  even  in  that  little  coun- 


ACHSAH    HOWE.  47 

try  place  among  the  hills  they  looked  queer  and 
old  fashioned,  and  I  knew  they  would  be  very 
different  from  every  one  else's  when  I  came  here. 
I  thought  I  would  be  happy  in  spite  of  my 
clothes  when  I  should  really  begin  my  studies 
here,  but  I  found  I  was  not  as  independent  as  I 
had  thought  I  was.  The  first  week  I  felt  as  if 
I  must  run  away  and  hide  myself  somewhere 
whenever  I  felt  the  girls  looking  at  me,  and  it 
was  so  hard  to  feel  that  I  was  shut  away  from 
you  all  because  I  was  so  queer  and  old  fashioned. 
Even  my  name  had  to  be  so  ugly  and  different 
from  every  one  else's.  Father  had  named  me 
for  Aunt  Achsah,  and  I  suppose  he  never  real- 
ized how  I  would  hate  such  a  name  when  I  grew 
old  enough  to  know  how  ugly  it  was.  But  it  has 
all  been  so  hard.  You  don't  know  how  I  have 
just  ached  sometimes  for  a  pretty  name  and  clothes 
that  were  like  other  people's." 

"Oh,  Achsah,  if  I  had  only  known  all  this 
before  !"  Christie  exclaimed,  with  a  heart-ache  at 
the  thought  of  the  many  little  kindnesses  she  had 
left  undone  that  might  have  made  Achsah  feel 
less  desolate  and  alone.  She  had  no  real  unkind- 
ness  with  which  to  reproach  herself;  but  these 
undone  things  rose  up  as  reproachfully  before 
her  as  if  they  had  been  things  committed. 

"I  was  too    proud  to  let  any  one  see  how 


48  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

much  I  minded,"  Achsah  went  on,  "and  so  I 
acted  as  if  I  did  not  care  for  any  one's  opinion  of 
either  myself  or  my  clothes,  and  the  more  I  cared 
the  more  independently  I  tried  to  act;  but  it  has 
been  hard  sometimes.  I  knew  I  could  never  have 
any  friends,  and  so  I  tried  to  make  myself  believe 
I  did  not  want  any;  and  I  have  been  hateful  and 
disagreeable,  so  that  no  one  would  guess  how 
lonely  and  miserable  I  was. 

"  But  I  haven't  told  you  about  my  dress  yet," 
she  continued.  "  I  found  I  had  n't  anything  that 
would  do  at  all  to  wear  at  Commencement,  so  I 
wrote  to  Aunt  Achsah  and  asked  her  if  she  would 
help  me  just  this  once  and  give  me  a  graduating 
dress.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  meant  to  dis- 
appoint me  so  dreadfully  or  not,  or  whether  she 
really  didn't  know  what  a  looking  thing  this  is; 
but  she  wrote  me  that  she  would  send  me  a  silk 
dress  that  her  sister  had  been  married  in,  and 
she  thought  with  a  little  alteration  it  might  do 
nicely.  So  I  really  believed  it  would  be  some- 
thing that  could  be  made  to  look  well;  and  when 
it  came  and  I  saw  what  a  shabby  old  thing  it 
was,  it  seemed  as  if  I  couldn't  bear  the  disap- 
pointment on  the  top  of  all  the  rest." 

UI  don't  wonder  you  were  disappointed," 
said  Christie,  with  warm  sympathy  and  a  great 
admiration  in  her  heart  for  a  girl  who  had  fought 


ACHSAII    HOWE.  49 

against  so  many  difficulties  in  her  determination 
to  win  an  education.  "Don't  shed  another  tear 
over  it,  Achsah,"  she  pleaded,  as  Achsah's  eyes 
filled  again  when  she  looked  at  the  forlorn  heap 
of  faded  finery.  "  Mother  will  fix  things  all 
right  somehow,  I  am  sure,  and  we'll  go  and  tell 
her  all  about  it." 

"You  are  so  kind,"  said  Achsah  gratefully. 
"Are  you  sure  she  wont  think  it  is  too  much 
trouble?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  exclaimed  Christie.  "You 
don't  know  how  lovely  she  is.  She  would  rather 
straighten  out  troubles  for  other  people  than  have 
a  good  time  herself,  I  believe;  and  she's  always 
willing  to  do  anything  for  my  friends." 

A  flush  of  pleasure  came  to  Achsah's  cheeks 
as  she  heard  herself  so  naturally  classed  among 
Christie's  friends. 

"  Now  we  will  wrap  the  dress  up  and  take  it 
home  to  show  mother,"  Christie  said.  "  I  will 
fold  it  up  while  you  are  fixing  your  hair,  and  then 
we  will  start  at  once,  so  we  will  have  an  hour  or 
so  before  tea-time.  I  do  n't  believe  you  will  have 
any  trouble  about  getting  permission  to  go." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  girls  were  walking 
up  the  broad  elm-shaded  street  towards  Christie's 
home,  Achsah's  heart  lighter  than  it  had  been 
for  many  a  day. 


50  CHRISTIE  S   NEXT   THINGS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   DRESS   PROBLEM. 

IT  was  a  very  easy  thing  for  Christie  to  be 
as  cordial  and  pleasant  to  Achsah  as  to  any  of 
the  other  girls,  now  that  her  sympathies  had 
been  aroused,  and  the  remembrance  of  past 
neglect  of  her  schoolmate's  happiness  made  her 
doubly  anxious  to  atone  for  it  by  any  kindness 
that  she  could  show  her. 

When  they  reached  the  pretty  vine-covered 
cottage,  Christie  took  Achsah  up  stairs  to  the 
cosey  little  room  that  was  her  own. 

"What  a  beautiful  room!"  exclaimed  Ach- 
sah, as  her  eyes  wandered  admiringly  about  the 
dainty  blue-tinted  nest. 

"Isn't  it  pretty  !"  said  Christie,  pleased  with 
Achsah's  undisguised  admiration.  "  Mother  al- 
ways gives  me  something  pretty  for  this  room 
when  she  wants  to  make  me  a  present,  and  I 
have  almost  everything  I  want  for  it  now. 
Father  gives  me  a  great  many  books,  and  I 
begin  to  feel  as  if  I  owned  quite  a  library." 

She  drew  aside  the  embroidered  curtains  that 
hung  before  a  pretty  low  bookcase,  and  showed 


THE    DRESS   PROBLEM.  51 

the  well-filled  shelves  with  evident  pride.  They 
were  a  collection  of  books  that  -any  girl  might 
be  glad  to  own  and  to  number  among  her 
friends,  and  perhaps  the  hours  spent  over 
their  pages  had  had  as  large  a  share  in  Chris- 
tie's education  as  the  hours  spent  over  school 
books. 

Christie's  ambitions  and  ideals  had  been 
formed  as  she  lingered  over  the  inspiring  words 
of  poets  who  set  the  duties  of  life  to  grand 
music,  or  authors  who  gleaned  only  the  pure 
and  the  true  to  offer  to  their  readers;  and  she 
cherished  her  books  as  if  they  were  living,  sym- 
pathetic friends. 

Achsah's  companions  had  always  been  her 
books,  and  kneeling  down  before  Christie's  book- 
case she  touched  the  volumes  almost  affection- 
ately, expressing  her  delight  when  she  met  with 
some  favorite  author  and  questioning  Christie 
about  the  contents  of  some  others  with  which 
she  was  not  familiar. 

Before  many  minutes  had  passed  Christie 
began  to  realize  that  she  had  been  the  loser  in 
not  making  Achsah's  acquaintance  before,  she 
shared  so  many  of  Christie's  tastes  and  had  so 
many  bright  original  ideas  which  she  was  not 
slow  to  express  when  she  felt  sure  of  sympathy. 

Christie  left  her  looking  over  the  books  while 


52  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT   THINGS. 

she  went  down  stairs  to  acquaint  her  mother 
with  the  arrival  of  her  guest. 

"Motherdie,  wont  you  plan  something  nice 
about  her  graduation  dress?"  she  asked  coax- 
ingly,  winding  her  arms  about  her  mother's 
neck.  "I  really  believe  I  care  more  about  her 
dress  than  I  do  my  own,  for  I  always  have  every- 
thing I  care  for,  and  she  has  never  had  anything. 
She  is  to  be  the  class  valedictorian  too,  and  it 
would  be  a  shame  for  her  to  have  to  wear  one 
of  her  shabby  old  school  dresses;  and  that  hid- 
eous green  silk  is  quite  out  of  the  question, 
though  I  didn't  like  to  discourage  her  by  telling 
her  so." 

Mrs.  Gilbert's  motherly  sympathies  were  at 
once  enlisted  in  the  young  girl's  behalf,  as 
Christie  told  her  the  story  of  Achsah's  life  and 
her  determined  struggle  for  an  education;  and 
she  promised  Christie  willingly  that  in  some 
way  the  dress  problem  should  be  solved  satis- 
factorily. 

"She  was  so  lonely  and  discouraged  that  I 
couldn't  help  bringing  her  home  with  me  this 
afternoon,"  explained  Christie.  "You  don't 
mind,  do  you,  mother?" 

"Of  course  not,  dear;  I  am  glad  you  did," 
Mrs.  Gilbert  answered  cordially.  "  I  '11  come  up 
to  your  room  and  see  her  in  a  few  minutes, 


THE   DRESS    PROBLEM.  53 

and  then  we  will  have  a  chat  about  her 
dress. ' ' 

Achsah  had  often  seen  Mrs.  Gilbert  and 
admired  her  motherly  face  and  pleasant  man- 
ners, but  she  had  never  spoken  to  her  before, 
and  she  was  surprised  and  touched  at  her  warm 
welcome  and  affectionate  greeting.  She  felt  at 
home  with  her  at  once,  and  lost  the  air  of  defiant 
shyness  which  rendered  her  so  unprepossessing 
to  strangers. 

"Christie  is  quite  as  much  interested  in  your 
graduating  dress  as  she  is  in  her  own,"  Mrs. 
Gilbert  remarked  presently;  "and  I  know  it  is 
fully  as  important  a  subject  to  you  seniors  as 
your  essays  and  diplomas.  I  hope  you  are  going 
to  let  me  have  a  little  share  in  yours  too,  in  the 
way  of  advice  at  least.  Christie's  is  to  be  a 
present  from  her  aunt,  so  I  am  defrauded  of  my 
proper  share  of  responsibility  as  far  as  she  is 
concerned." 

"You  are  so  kind,  Mrs.  Gilbert,"  responded 
Achsah  gratefully,  beginning  to  undo  the  pack- 
age in  which  the  obnoxious  green  silk  was 
folded  away.  "  I  am  in  perfect  despair  over  this 
myself,  and  I  can't  imagine  any  way  in  which 
it  could  be  transformed  into  a  presentable  dress. 
It  is  so  very  unbecoming,  to  begin  with,  although 
my  dresses  always  are,  for  that  matter." 


54  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  find  any  color 
more  unbecoming  to  Achsah's  dark  olive  skin 
than  the  intense  green,  and  Mrs.  Gilbert  men- 
tally decided  that  it  would  never  do  as  soon  as 
Achsah  held  it  up  against  her  face. 

"If  there  was  only  time  enough,  you  might 
have  it  dyed  and  entirely  made  over,"  she  re- 
marked. "It  is  a  good  quality;  those  old-fash- 
ioned silks  used  to  be  made  to  wear  instead  of 
to  sell,  and  you  could  have  a  serviceable  dark 
silk  that  would  wear  for  a  long  time.  That  is 
out  of  the  question  just  now  though,  for  there 
is  not  time  to  send  it  to  the  dyer's  and  get  it 
back  again  before  Commencement.  I  will  carry 
it  off  to  my  room,  if  you  will  let  me,  and  see  if 
I  can't  plan  something  that  will  please  you; 
and  in  the  meantime  you  and  Christie  can  put 
it  out  of  your  heads  and  have  a  pleasant  visit 
together." 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  Achsah  saw 
the  green  silk  disappear,  and  then  she  gave  her- 
self up  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  Christie's  grace- 
ful hospitality.  She  forgot  her  old-fashioned, 
ill-fitting  dress  and  her  self-consciousness,  and 
proved  that  she  could  be  a  very  pleasant  com- 
panion. 

The  two  girls  spent  a  pleasant  hour  together 
in  Christie's  room,  looking  at  and  discussing  the 


THE    DRESS    PROBLEM.  55 

pretty  girlish  belongings  with  which  it  was 
filled,  and  then  Achsah  leaned  luxuriously  back 
in  the  little  rocking-chair  and  let  her-  eyes  feast 
themselves  on  the  pretty  picture  that  was  framed 
in  by  the  open  window. 

First  the  elms  with  their  leafy  arms  entwined 
as  they  had  been  for  the  last  half-century,  their 
breeze-kissed  leaves  making  a  quivering  ara- 
besque of  green  through  which  the  translucent 
blue  of  the  summer  sky  shimmered.  An  oval 
opening  in  the  branches  showed  the  broad  blue 
river  tranquilly  rippling  along,  an  active  little 
tug  boat  panting  and  puffing  as  it  drew  a  fleet 
of  heavy  barges  against  the  tide. 

"How  beautiful  it  is!"  Achsah  said  at  last, 
with  a  little  sigh  of  content,  the  quiet  peace- 
fulness  of  the  summer  afternoon  pervading  her 
with  its  restfulness. 

"  I  never  get  tired  of  my  little  glimpse  of  the 
river,"  Christie  returned.  "I  am  going  to  leave 
you  to  enjoy  it  a  little  while,  Achsah,  while  I 
go  and  see  if  mother  wants  me  for  anything." 

She  sought  her  mother's  room  at  once,  eager 
to  know  how  she  was  going  to  solve  the  dress 
problem  which  seemed  such  a  hopeless  one  to 
the  two  girls. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  dreadful, 
mother!"  Christie  exclaimed,  as  she  held  up  the 


56  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

green  silk,  which  seemed  more  vivid  and  uncom- 
promising than  ever  in  its  hue  as  the  afternoon 
sunshine  fell  upon  it. 

Mrs.  Gilbert  smiled  at  Christie's  disdain.  "I 
remember  very  well,  dear,  when  that  would  have 
been  considered  a  beautiful  dress,  and  a  pair  of 
kid  gloves  to  match  would  have  been  the  height 
of  fashion.  I  must  admit  though  that  it  is  rather 
hopeless  material  from  which  to  plan  anything 
that  will  be  suitable  for  Commencement  night. 
It  is  a  pity  Achsah  can't  wear  a  white  dress  like 
the  rest  of  the  class.  I  have  just  been  trying 
to  see  if  I  couldn't  manage  to  contrive  one  for 
her,  but  I  am  afraid  I  can't.  After  I  lay  aside 
the  money  for  your  trip  with  your  cousins  next 
month,  I  have  not  any  extra  funds  to  fall  back 
upon;  and  I  do  not  want  to  ask  your  father  for 
any  more,  for  I  know  he  can't  spare  it." 

Christie  was  silent  for  a  time  and  a  shadow 
of  disappointment  dimmed  the  eager  brightness 
which  had  been  upon  her  face  all  the  afternoon. 

She  played  with  the  torn  lace  upon  the  old 
dress  with  restless  ringers,  and  looked  over  the 
persistently  green  folds  out  to  the  no  less  green 
leaves  of  the  elms,  with  a  flitting  query  under 
her  other  thoughts  why  one  should  be  so  ugly 
and  the  other  so  beautiful. 

"Nexts  are  just  like  the  links  in  a  chain, 


THE   DRESS    PROBLEM.  57 

aren't  they,  mother?"  she  said  at  last.  "One 
thing  leads  right  on  to  another.  If  you  take  tip 
one  'next'  another  comes  right  to  your  hand,  and 
you  can't  get  past  it  without  taking  it  up.  I 
took  up  one  'next,'  and  now  that  I  am  almost 
past  it  another  'next'  is  coming  that  I  don't  like 
quite  as  well." 

"Duties  are  always  linked  together,"  Mrs. 
Gilbert  answered,  watching  Christie's  thoughtful 
face,  while  the  bright  needles  flashed  to  and  fro 
in  her  fingers.  "  Sometimes  we  drop  a  link,  and 
then  we  make  mistakes ;  but  if  we  followed 
straight  on  we  could  not  go  wrong.  What  is 
your  'next'  now,  dearie?" 

"Let  me  think  about  it  before  I  tell  even 
you,  mother,"  Christie  answered,  and  she  curled 
herself  up  in  the  broad  low  window-seat  that 
was  one  of  the  charms  of  'mother's  room,'  and 
looked  up  at  the  drifting  clouds  with  a  thought- 
ful little  wrinkle  in  the  fair  girlish  forehead. 

It  was  no  sacrifice  to  Christie  to  do  things 
which  seemed  rarely  generous,  for  nothing  ever 
gave  her  greater  happiness  than  to  delight 
another's  heart  with  some  wished-for  possession. 
She  shrank,  too,  from  praise  for  thonghtfulness 
and  tact,  because  she  had  an  instinctive  con- 
sciousness that  she  did  not  deserve  it. 

There  was  danger   that  Christie's  sensitive- 


58  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

ness  about  hurting  the  feelings  of  others  might 
some  day  unconsciously  become  insincerity,  for 
from  babyhood  she  had  been  almost  morbidly 
fearful  of  wounding  another  by  some  thought- 
less remark. 

Christie  often  smiled  now  over  one  little 
incident  of  her  childhood.  She  was  attending 
a  school  for  little  children  where  all  the  scholars 
were  between  six  and  eight  years  old,  with  the 
exception  of  a  large  colored  girl,  who  brought 
one  of  the  children  to  school  every  day  and  re- 
mained with  her  little  charge  until  it  was  time 
to  take  her  home  again. 

Christie  had  never  seen  a  colored  person 
before,  and  she  pitied  this  girl  from  the  depths 
of  her  childish  heart  for  the  dark  skin  which 
made  her  so  conspicuous.  She  showed  Debby 
many  a  little  kindness,  and  never  made  any  allu- 
sion to  the  black  skin  and  woolly  hair  which  many 
of  the  other  children  commented  freely  upon. 

"I  should  feel  so  dreadfully,  if  I  was  black, 
that  I  would  never  want  any  one  to  speak  about 
it,"  she  thought  to  herself,  regarding  poor  Debby 
with  pitying  eyes. 

One  day  when  Christie  was  reciting  in  the 
little  geography  class,  the  teacher  asked  her, 
"What  sort  of  people  are  the  inhabitants  of 
Africa?" 


THE   DRESS   PROBLEM.  59 

Much  to  her  surprise,  for  Christie  usually 
had  her  lessons  carefully  prepared,  the  child  re- 
mained silent,  though  a  crimson  flush  overspread 
her  face. 

"Think  a  minute,  Christie;  I  am  sure  you 
know,"  the  teacher  said  encouragingly,  but 
Christie's  lips  never  moved. 

"Don't  you  know,  dear?"  asked  the  teacher, 
seeing  the  little  girl's  distress.  "I  think  you 
can  tell  me.  What  color  are  the  people  who 
live  in  Africa?" 

Christie's  heart  swelled  and  tears  shone  in 
her  eyes.  Oh,  couldn't  Miss  Carpenter  under- 
stand why  she  did  not  answer!  Of  course  she 
knew,  but  how  could  she  tell  with  Debby  look- 
ing at  her  from  her  seat  in  the  corner,  a  friendly 
smile  on  her  shining  black  face  and  her  bright 
eyes  gleaming  with  interest.  If  she  could  only 
describe  the  Africans  without  hurting  Debby's 
feelings,  as  she  surely  must  by  mentioning  their 
color  and  their  tightly  curled  hair!  but  that  was 
impossible,  so  she  hid  her  face  behind  a  corner 
of  her  little  white  apron  and  wept  softly,  while 
Miss  Carpenter  passed  the  question. 

"They  look  like  Debby,"  responded  the 
next  child.  "  They  are  black,  with  kinky  hair," 
and  behind  Christie's  apron  tears  of  sympathy 
for  Debby's  hurt  feelings  mingled  with  the 


60  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

tears   that  fell  for  her  supposed  failure  in  her 
lesson. 

When  all  the  children  had  gone  out  to  play 
at  recess,  Miss  Carpenter  called  the  tearful  little 
girl  to  her  and  said  gently, 

"Christie,  couldn't  you  tell  me  about  the 
people  that  live  in  Africa?" 

"Yes'm,"  came  in  smothered  tones  from  be- 
hind the  white  apron. 

"Why  didn't  you  then?"  the  teacher  asked. 

"I  was  afraid  it  would  make  Debby  feel 
bad,"  Christie  answered,  "and  I  know  she  felt 
dreadful  when  Carrie  said  they  were  black  and 
their  hair  kinked.  Poor  Debby,  she  can't  help 
being  black,  and  it  must  make  her  feel  so  dread- 
ful when  people  notice  it." 

The  tears  were  falling  faster  for  Debby  now 
than  for  herself,  for  she  did  not  mind  losing  her 
place  in  the  class,  as  long  as  Miss  Carpenter 
knew  all  about  it. 

Christie  had  never  outgrown  this  extreme 
sensitiveness  about  other  people's  feelings,  and  it 
cost  her  a  great  effort  ever  to  say  anything  that 
might  hurt  another  in  any  way. 

Generosity  was  another  trait  in  her  character, 
so  marked  that  it  was  often  necessary  for  her 
mother  to  curb  her  when  she  was  too  little  to 
understand  what  was  her  own  to  give  and  what 


THE   DRESS   PROBLEM.  6l 

belonged  to  her  parents.  Once  the  Sunday's 
dinner  had  been  placed  by  the  generous  little 
hands  in  a  beggar's  basket,  and  oftentimes  the 
child  had  come  in  from  her  play  with  some  arti- 
cle of  clothing  missing  which  she  had  given  to  a 
"  poor  itty  beggar  girl." 

As  Christie  grew  older  she  learned  discretion 
in  her  giving,  but  she  always  felt  it  to  be  a  great 
pleasure  to  gratify  any  friend's  wishes,  at  what- 
ever cost  it  might  be  to  herself.  It  was  indeed  a 
great  sacrifice  that  she  would  consider  as  such,  if 
a  friend's  happiness  was  in  question.  Impul- 
sively generous,  it  gave  her  more  pleasure  to 
gratify  her  impulses  than  to  carry  out  any  pre- 
conceived plan  for  her  own  gratification. 

Her  mother's  words  concerning  Achsah's 
dress  had  suggested  a  plan  to  her  mind,  but  for 
once  the  cost  seemed  so  great  that  she  hesitated. 
This  pleasant  summer  trip  with  her  cousins  had 
been  something  to  which  she  had  looked  forward 
with  eager  anticipation  for  nearly  a  year,  and 
she  had  been  away  from 'home  so  little  that  it 
seemed  a  greater  treat  to  her  than  it  might  have 
appeared  to  many  girls. 

If  she  could  only  give  this  trip  up,  and  use 
the  money  to  procure  a  pretty  white  dress  for 
Achsah  for  Commencement  night!  But  much 
as  she  longed  to  make  her  schoolmate  happy, 


62  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

thoughts  of  self  could  not  be  entirely  put 
aside. 

"If  it  was  any  thing  but  that!"  she  said  to  her- 
self again  and  again,  as  she  revolved  the  matter 
in  her  own  mind. 

"Well?"  asked  her  mother  inquiringly  at 
last,  as  Christie  moved  restlessly  from  her  com- 
fortable nook. 

"I  think  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  my 
'next,'"  Christie  answered.  "I  didn't  want 
to  just  at  first,  but  if  I  don't,  it  will  spoil  my 
other  nice  time  anyway,  for  my  troublesome 
conscience  will  persist  in  calling  me  selfish." 

"  What  is  it?" 

UI  want  to  give  up  my  trip  with  Aunt  Flor- 
ence, if  you  are  willing,  and  ask  father  to  give 
me  the  money  instead;  then  I  want  you  to  be  the 
loveliest  mother  in  the  world,  and  spend  it  for 
Achsah  just  as  you  would  for  me,  in  getting  her 
a  real  pretty  white  dress  and  all  the  little  fixings 
to  go  with  it,  so  that  she  will  have  just  one 
happy  time  to  remember  in  her  schooldays  any- 
way. I  believe  I  shall  feel  nearly  as  bad  as 
she  does,  if  she  has  to  wear  one  of  her  dowdy 
old  school  dresses,  and  it  would  be  a  shame  for 
her  to  have  to  look  so  when  she  is  the  brightest 
girl  in  the  class.  I  shall  really  enjoy  doing  this 
more  than,  going  with  Aunt  Florence,  though  I 


THE    DRESS   PROBLEM.  63 

had  to  weigh  everything  on  both  sides  very  care- 
fully to  really  make  up  my  mind." 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  counted  the  cost?" 
asked  her  mother,  smiling  down  into  the  earnest 
face. 

"  Yes;  this  isn't  a  rash  impulse,  mother;  I  've 
spent  at  least  ten  minutes  in  serious  thought,  and 
you  know  that  is  long  and  prudent  deliberation 
for  me.  It  wont  spoil  Aunt  Florence's  party  if 
I  don't  go,  for  she  will  take  Cousin  Emily  in  my 
place,  and  I  shall  be  happy  at  home  here  with 
you." 

"And  I  shall  enjoy  having  my  Christie  to 
myself  a  while  after  this  busy  school  year  is 
over,"  her  mother  answered.  "I  wont  say  a 
word  to  dissuade  you  from  your  plan,  darling, 
for  I  know  your  generous  heart  so  well  that  I 
think  Achsah's  happiness  will  quite  make  up  to 
you  for  your  disappointment." 


64  CHRISTIE'S  XEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
CHRISTIE'S  PLAN. 

CHRISTIE  went  back  to  her  room  feeling  so 
delighted  at  the  satisfactory  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem of  Achsah's  graduating  dress,  that  she  quite 
forgot  to  think  of  the  sacrifice  that  it  was  to 
cost. 

She  found  her  guest  still  luxuriating  in  the 
comfortable  low  chair,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  river  and  an  abstracted  look  upon  her  face. 

"Did  you  think  I  had  quite  run  away  and 
left  you?"  asked  Christie  merrily,  as  Achsah 
started  from  her  reverie  at  her  friend's  entrance. 
"Well,  it's  just  as  I  told  you  it  would  be.  You 
are  going  to  have  a  lovely  dress  for  Commence- 
ment after  all." 

"How?"  queried  Achsah  in  amazement,  her 
face  reflecting  the  smile  which  illumined  Chris- 
tie's features. 

"I'll  tell  you  when  we  go  to  bed,"  Christie 
answered.  "I  want  to  have  something  nice  to 
talk  about  then,  and  in  the  meantime  you  must 
take  it  on  faith.  Now  it  is  almost  time  for  the 
tea-bell  to  ring,  and  we  must  be  getting  ready. 


CHRISTIE'S  PLAN.  65 

May  I  do  your  hair?  I  flatter  myself  I  have  a 
gift  that  way,  and  I  am  always  anxious  to  try 
my  skill  on  the  heads  of  any  of  my  friends  who 
will  trust  themselves  in  my  hands." 

Achsah  was  only  too  willing,  and  Christie 
took  out  the  hairpins  which  fastened  the  hard, 
ungraceful  knot,  and  let  the  long  silky  hair  flow 
in  waves  over  Achsah's  shoulders  till  it  rippled 
down  to  her  waist. 

"You  have  such  beautiful  hair!"  Christie  ex- 
claimed admiringly  as  she  brushed  it.  "May  I 
fix  it  any  way  I  like?  I  don't  think  you  make 
half  enough  of  it.  If  I  had  such  hair  I  should  n't 
twist  it  into  a  plain  little  knot,  but  I  should 
make  loose  coils  of  it  so  every  hair  would  show 
to  advantage.  You  aren't  half  vain  enough, 
Achsah." 

"  I  wish  you  would  show  me  some  pretty  way 
to  arrange  it,"  Achsah  said,  her  face  brightening 
at  Christie's  words.  "I  never  thought  about 
doing  it  becomingly,  but  I  just  twisted  it  up  out 
of  the  way  anyhow." 

Christie  was  enough  of  an  artist  to  know  how 
.to  arrange  the  soft  shining  coils  to  bring  out 
their  beauty  to  the  best  advantage,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  make  the  luxuriant  hair  becoming 
to  the  small  face  with  its  delicate  features.  She 
brushed  forward  the  short  wavv  locks  about  the 


66  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

low  forehead  which  Achsali  had  always  fastened 
back,  and  the  effect  was  quite  as  becoming  as  she 
had  thought  it  would  be.  "Now  let  me  dress 
you  up  a  little  more,  Achsah,"  she  exclaimed, 
delighted  with  the  result  of  her  labor;  and  un- 
fastening the  stiff  linen  band  about  Achsah's 
neck,  she  replaced  it  with  a  soft,  cream-tinted 
niching,  and  fastened  a  glowing  Jacqueminot 
rose  at  the  throat. 

"There,  now  look  at  yourself!"  she  ex- 
claimed, and  Achsah  gazed  with  girlish  pleasure 
at  the  reflection  in  the  glass.  It  was  wonderful 
how  the  change  in  the  arrangement  of  her  hair 
had  altered  the  expression  of  her  face.  It  was 
not  the  repellant  image  that  had  looked  at  her 
every  morning  from  the  glass  in  her  little  room 
at  the  Institute  that  she  saw  smiling  at  her  from 
Christie's  mirror.  Her  face  was  not  as  round 
and  rosy  as  Christie's,  and  it  lacked  the  dimples 
and  animation  that  she  admired  so  much  in  her 
schoolmate;  but  it  was  no  less  attractive,  with 
the  clear  olive  skin  flushed  a  little  just  now  with 
unusual  color,  her  dark  eyes  lustrous  with  feel- 
ing, and  a  pleased  smile  upon  her  lips. 

A  stranger  would  have  said  that  Achsah's 
face  was  the  more  intellectual  of  the  two,  and 
the  coil  of  hair  crowning  the  small,  well-poised 
head  gave  her  a  queenly  air  that  marked  her 


CHRISTIE'S  PLAN.  67 

\vith  a  certain  individuality  that  Christie 
lacked. 

Christie  had  barely  time  to  hastily  brush  her 
own  hair  and  rearrange  it,  and  slip  into  a  fresh 
white  dress,  before  the  tea-bell  rang  and  it  was 
time  to  take  her  guest  down  stairs. 

More  than  once  during  the  next  hour  she 
looked  at  Achsah  in  wonder.  The  girl  was  a 
new  revelation  to  her.  The  stiffness  and  defiance 
were  gone,  and  she  talked  so  well  and  readily 
that  Mr.  Gilbert  was  evidently  very  much  pleased 
with  his  young  guest  and  did  his  best  to  draw 
her  out.  Achsah  felt  that  she  looked  her  best, 
and  she  forgot  her  ill-fitting  dress  and  every- 
thing that  usually  made  her  self-conscious  and 
awkward,  while  she  enjoyed  the  charm  of  this 
pleasant  home  circle  where  she  was  so  cordially 
made  to  feel  herself  a  welcome  guest. 

She  responded  readily  to  the  kindness  with 
which  she  was  treated,  and  did  not  look,  as  was 
her  wont,  for  slights  or  criticism.  Even  Christie 
had  no  idea  of  the  pleasure  that  evening  was  to 
Achsah,  although  she  fancied  that  she  could 
imagine  it,  knowing  as  she  did  how  lonely  and 
isolated  her  schoolmate  had  been  ever  since  her 
arrival  at  the  Institute. 

When  the  two  girls  went  up  to  bed  at  last 
Achsah's  face  was  fairly  glowing  with  pleasure 


68  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

and  animation,  and  she  had  laughed  merrily 
several  times  in  a  way  that  Christie  \vould 
have  believed  impossible  a  few  hours  before. 

She  realized  that  the  reserve  and  defiance  had 
not  been  so  much  Achsah's  real  self  as  they  had 
been  assumed  to  hide  her  loneliness  and  heart- 
ache. With  all  her  heart  she  wished  that  she 
had  begun  before  to  smooth  the  rough  places  in 
this  life,  which  had  had  so  little  of  the  pleasure 
of  girlhood  in  it;  but  it  comforted  her  a  little  for 
her  previous  neglect  to  think  of  the  pleasure  she 
had  in  store  for  Achsah. 

The  girls  lingered  long  over  their  toilet — 
leisurely  brushing  their  hair  and  preparing  for 
the  night,  Achsah  loath  to  lose  a  moment  of  this 
delightful  evening  by  letting  sleep  encroach  upon 
it.  When  they  were  ready  for  bed  at  last,  and 
Christie  put  out  the  lamp,  the  soft  moonlight 
streamed  in  through  the  window  and  made  the 
room  almost  as  light  as  day. 

Achsah  was  very  quiet  for  a  little  while  after 
the  dark  head  and  the  fair  one  were  nestled  side 
by  side  upon  the  pillow.  She  was  thinking  how 
lovely  a  thing  it  must  be  to  really  belong  in  a 
home  like  this  and  have  a  share  in  the  love 
which  pervaded  it.  The  loving  intercourse,  the 
interest  and  sympathy  which  Christie  could 
claim  so  freely,  the  little  caresses  which  passed 


CHRISTIE'S  PLAN.  69 

as  a  matter  of  course  between  mother  and  daugh- 
ter, seemed  like  the  greatest  happiness  in  the 
\vorld  to  heart-hungry  Achsah,  who  had  borne 
all  her  girlish  troubles  alone  and  had  known  no 
sympathy  in  her  ambition  to  be  a  student.  She 
did  not  realize  that  she  had  shut  herself  away 
from  much  companionship  that  she  might  have 
had,  by  her  own  manner  and  sharp  speech,  and 
she  thought  half  enviously  that  it  was  unjust 
that  Christie  should  have  everything  while  she 
had  nothing.  But  the  remembrance  of  Christie's 
kindness  banished  all  this  envy  from  her  longing 
for  a  home,  and  her  grateful  heart  overflowed 
with  affection  for  her  new  friend. 

"Now  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  about 
the  dress,"  Christie  said,  as  they  settled  them- 
selves for  one  of  the  chats  that  girls  delight  in 
after  they  are  in  bed. 

"Yes;  I  can't  quite  understand  how  your 
mother  could  plan  anything  nice  for  me,  won- 
derful as  she  is,"  Achsah  returned. 

"I  am  a  little  afraid  that  perhaps  you  wont 
like  the  plan,"  said  Christie,  feeling  suddenly 
shy  about  broaching  her  project  to  Achsah,  lest 
she  should  wound  her  pride. 

UI  am  sure  I  shall  like  anything  that  your 
mother  suggests,"  Achsah  returned,  with  perfect 
confidence  in  Mrs.  Gilbert's  judgment. 


70  CHRISTIE  S    NEXT   THINGS. 

"But  this  is  my  plan  quite  as  much  as 
mother's,''  Christie  explained.  "  Oh,  dear,  I  am 
just  crazy  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  only  I  shall  be 
so  dreadfully  disappointed  if  you  are  not  pleased 
with  it  too.  I  give  you  warning,  Achsah,  I 
shall  be  very  much  hurt  if  you  don't  agree  to  it. 
Will  you  promise  beforehand  not  to  be  the  least 
bit  hurt  at  anything  I  propose?" 

"I  will  promise  you  anything,"  Achsah  an- 
swered warmly. 

"Now  remember  that,  for  I  am  going  to 
believe  it  and  tell  you  all  about  my  plan  without 
being  a  bit  afraid  that  you  will  be  vexed  with 
me,"  Christie  went  on.  "Achsah,  I  am  going 
to  ask  you  to  let  me  do  just  as  I  would  if  you 
were  my  sister,  or  as  I  am  sure  you  would  do 
for  me  if  I  were  in  your  place  and  you  in  mine. 
It  shall  be  a  secret  between  ourselves,  and  no  one 
else  shall  know  a  word  about  it  except  mother, 
and  you  don't  mind  her  knowing,  of  course. 
I  shall  have  some  money  that  I  can  use  for  any- 
thing that  I  want  to,  and  I  have  just  set  my 
heart  upon  getting  you  a  lovely  white  dress,  and 
all  the  pretty  little  dainty  fixings  that  auntie  is 
going  to  send  me.  Now,  Achsah,  do  n't  say  no, 
for  I  am  resolved  to  carry  out  my  plan,  and  I 
shall  think  you  don't  want  to  be  friends  with 
me  if  you  refuse.  It  is  the  first  favor  I  have  ever 


CHRISTIE  S    PLAN.  71 

asked  of  you,  so  I  know  you  will  say  yes  to  it. 
Why,  Achsah,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Have  I  hurt 
your  feelings,  dear?  You  promised  me  you 
wouldn't  be  hurt  or  offended." 

Achsah  had  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow  and 
was  weeping,  and  Christie  raised  herself  upon  her 
elbow  and  looked  at  her  in  silent  dismay. 

u  Now  I  have  told  you  about  it  so  awkwardly 
that  I  have  hurt  your  feelings,"  Christie  said, 
her  own  eyes  beginning  to  fill.  "I  am  so  sorry, 
Achsah;  wont  you  take  it  just  the  way  I  meant 
it,  for  it  will  spoil  even-thing  for  me  to  think 
that  I  have  made  you  feel  bad.  Please  don't 
cry,"  and  she  nestled  her  face  close  to  Achsah's 
tear-wet  cheek. 

"  It  isn't  that  I  feel  hurt,"  Achsah  said,  try- 
ing to  control  her  voice.  "  But  you  are  so  good. 
Of  course  I  mustn't  let  you  do  it,  but  it  is  so 
lovely  in  you  to  care  enough  about  me  to  be 
willing  to  do  so  much  to  have  me  look  as  nice 
as  any  of  the  rest,  that  indeed  I  shall  not  feel 
bitter  now  even  if  I  have  to  wear  that  old 
green  silk.  I  believe  it  was  more  because  I  felt 
as  if  nobody  cared  that  I  minded  it  so  much  be- 
fore. You  have  so  many  to  care  about  you, 
Christie,  that  you  can't  imagine  what  it  feels  like 
to  know  that  nothing  that  you  have  or  do  is  of 
any  consequence  to  any  one  but  yourself." 


72  CHRISTIE  S    NEXT  THINGS. 

"You  must  never  feel  that  way  again,"  Chris- 
tie answered,  with  a  loving  pressure  of  the  hand 
that  sought  her  own.  "I  always  thought  you 
did  not  care  to  be  friends  with  any  of  us;  but  if 
I  had  only  known  you  before  as  I  do  now,  we 
would  have  been  friends  long  ago.  Now  you  are 
going  to  let  me  be  happy  over  your  graduating 
dress,  are  n't  you?  for  you  do  n't  know  what  a  dis- 
appointment it  will  be  to  me  if  you  don't  let  me 
have  my  way  about  it." 

But  Achsah  steadfastly  refused  for  some  time 
to  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  accepting  Christie's 
generosity,  and  it  was  only  when  she  realized 
that  her  refusal  was  really  wounding  and  disap- 
pointing her  friend  that  she  yielded. 

Christie  was  so  enthusiastic  over  the  dress  that 
she  was  eager  to  discuss  it  with  Achsah,  and  va- 
rious styles  and  trimmings  were  talked  over  by 
the  two  girls,  till  Mrs.  Gilbert  tapped  upon  their 
door. 

"Christie!  You  girls  must  stop  talking  and 
go  to  sleep.  It  is  after  eleven  o'clock." 

With  an  exchange  of  good  nights  they  went  to 
sleep,  Achsah' s  heart  warm  with  a  new  feeling  of 
affection  and  gratitude,  while  Christie  wondered 
how  this  "nexte  thynge"  could  ever  have  seemed 
hard  to  do. 

Earlv  the  next  morning  Christie  sought  her 


CHRISTIE'S  PLAN.  73 

father  and  asked  his  consent  to  give  up  the  pro- 
posed trip  with  her  aunt  and  cousins. 

"What  a  changeable  little  weather-cock  it  is," 
her  father  answered,  pinching  her  cheek  play- 
fully. "Here  you  have  been  talking  and  plan- 
ning about  this  wonderful  trip  for  months,  and 
now  all  at  once  you  want  to  give  it  up.  Well, 
I  'm  perfectly  willing,  puss,  for  it  would  be  lonely 
without  you;  but  you  will  have  to  make  your 
peace  with  your  aunt  Florence." 

"  If  I  don't  go,  father,  would  you  mind  giv- 
ing me  the  money  that  the  trip  would  cost,  or  a 
part  of  it  at  least?"  Christie  asked  rather  shyly. 

Her  father  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"Are  n't  you  growing  mercenary,  daughter?" 
he  asked  good  humoredly.  "Seems  to  me  that 
fifty  dollars  is  quite  a  large  amount  of  pin  money 
for  you  to  have  all  at  once.  What  mighty  pro- 
ject have  you  on  hand?" 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  didn't  tell  you?" 
Christie  asked.  "Mother  knows,  and  she  ap- 
proves of  it,  but  it  is  somebody  else's  secret  besides 
my  own,  so  I  would  rather  not  say  anything  more 
about  it." 

"If  mother  knows,  I'm  perfectly  satisfied," 
her  father  answered.  "Here  it  is,  girlie,  and  I 
hope  you  '11  enjoy  every  cent  of  it." 

Christie   felt  very  rich  as  she  deposited    the 


74  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

new  crisp  bill  in  her  portemonnaie,  which  had 
never  held  such  an  accumulation  of  wealth 
before. 

"Mother,  couldn't  we  go  to  the  city  to-day 
and  get  the  dress?"  she  asked,  when  she  found 
her  mother  in  the  dining-room  giving  the  last 
dainty  touches  to  the  carefully  appointed  table. 

Mrs.  Gilbert  paused  to  consider  the  pro- 
gramme she  had  already  mapped  out  for  the  day. 

"I  think  we  must,"  she  said.  "There  is  so 
little  time  before  Commencement  that  we  cannot 
afford  to  lose  a  day,  and  I  will  make  the  dress, 
Christie.  I  want  to  have  that  part  in  your  plan, 
and  then  no  one  beside  ourselves  need  know  any- 
thing about  it.  You  two  girls  might  go  in  on 
the  nine  o'clock  train  and  look  around,  and  I 
will  meet  you  two  hours  later  and  help  you 
decide.  How  do  you  like  that  plan?" 

"Nothing  could  be  better,  you  best  of  mo- 
thers !"  Christie  exclaimed  joyfully,  giving  her  a 
loving  hug  that  expressed  all  the  thanks  that  she 
did  not  put  into  words. 

The  city  was  only  an  hour's  ride  from  the 
pretty  village  of  Weston,  but  Achsah  had  never 
been  in  it  since  the  day  she  passed  through  it  on 
her  way  to  Maplewood  Institute,  and  it  was  with 
a  glow  of  pleasurable  excitement  that  she  heard 
the  plan  for  the  day. 


CHRISTIE'S  PLAN.  75 

"I  can  hardly  believe  that  it  was  only  yester- 
day that  I  was  so  perfectly  wretched,"  she  said  to 
Christie,  when  they  were  seated  in  the  train  and 
moving  out  of  the  station.  "I  felt  as  if  it  was 
of  no  use  to  try  any  more;  that  I  couldn't  possi- 
bly get  along  without  a  friend  in  the  world;  and 
now  I  am  happier  than  I  have  been  for  years." 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  I  was  part  of  the  plan  for 
making  you  happier,"  Christie  said  earnestly, 
feeling  the  blessedness  of  the  ministry  of  helpful- 
ness as  she  listened  to  Achsah's  words. 

Her  own  life  was  so  sheltered  by  love  and 
care  that  she  delighted  in  the  thought  that  she 
could  reflect  a  little  of  its  sunshine  into  a  less 
favored  life,  and  she  was  almost  more  happy  than 
Achsah  herself. 

The  two  girls  were  so  absorbed  in  conversa- 
tion that  they  did  not  notice  who  their  neighbors 
were  upon  the  ferry-boat  until  they  had  nearly 
crossed  the  river. 

"Oh,  Achsah,  look  at  this  poor  woman," 
Christie  whispered;  and  both  the  girls  regarded 
the  passenger  who  sat  on  Christie's  right  with 
pitying  curiosity. 

She  was  a  small,  frail-looking  woman,  with  a 
thin,  haggard  face,  which  wore  an  expression  of 
hopeless  misery.  Her  features  were  pinched 
with  illness  and  want,  and  dark  rings  encircled 


76  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

her  eyes.  Her  clothes,  though  clean,  were  al- 
most too  old  and  worn  to  hold  together,  and  the 
little  bundle  that  she  held  in  her  arms  so  ten- 
derly that  the  girls  knew  it  must  be  a  baby,  was 
bundled  up  in  a  piece  of  coarse  sacking. 

As  the  girls  looked  at  the  sorrowful  face  of 
the  mother  a  feeble  little  wail  issued  from  the 
bundle,  and  she  hushed  it  tenderly,  while  two 
great  tears  that  had  been  gathering  in  her  eyes 
rolled  slowly  down  her  sunken  cheeks. 

"Is  your  baby  sick?"  asked  Christie,  her 
heart  overflowing  with  sympathy  for  the  poor 
woman. 

The  mother  evidently  understood  the  ques- 
tion, but  her  speech  was  so  broken  that  it  was 
scarcely  intelligible  to  the  girls. 

"  He  sick  in  his  eyes,"  she  said,  drawing  the 
covering  from  the  baby's  head  and  showing 
them  the  bandaged  eyes.  "He  three  week  old. 
Doctor  say  me  take  him  every  day  to  hospital, 
perhaps  he  see.  Doctor  hurt  him.  He  cry  very 
much." 

"But  surely  you  do  not  take  him  every  day 
yourself!  You  are  not  well  enough,"  Christie 
exclaimed. 

"Me  take  him  yesterday,  to-day,"  explained 
the  woman.  "  Doctor  say  he  must  go  every  day, 
or  he  no  see." 


CHRISTIE'S    PLAX.  77 

The  boat  had  reached  the  slip  and  the  pas- 
sengers were  crowding  towards  the  deck. 

Christie  opened  her  purse  and  took  out  a  sil- 
ver coin. 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  your  poor  little  baby," 
she  said  gently;  "I  hope  he  will  soon  be  better. 
Will  you  use  this  for  him  in  any  way  you  like?" 

The  mother's  face  brightened  as  she  took 
the  coin. 

"Tank  you,"  she  said  gratefully,  and  in 
another  moment  the  crowd  had  swept  the  girls 
along,  and  they  had  left  the  poor  woman  with 
her  pitiful  little  burden  to  wait  till  the  confusion 
was  over  before  they  left  the  boat. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  sorrowful  face  as  that 
poor  woman's  was  before  you  spoke  to  her, 
Christie,"  said  Achsah.  "Poor  little  thing,  she 
looked  so  ill  and  feeble;  and  the  baby,  puny  as 
it  was,  seemed  too  much  of  a  weight  for  her. 
How  much  suffering  there  is  in  the  world  that 
we  do  n'  t  know  anything  about.  I  do  envy  you, 
Christie;  you  always  know  how  to  make  people 
happier  as  soon  as  you  see  they  are  in  trouble, 
and  I  wish  I  could  live  just  such  a  life  as  yours. 
You  make  sunshine  for  everybody." 

"Oh,  Achsah,  don't  say  that!"  Christie  said 
earnestly.  "You  don't  know  me  when  you 
talk  that  way,  for  indeed  I  don't  deserve  to  have 


78  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

such  things  said  about  me.  Until  very  lately 
I  have  n't  tried  at  all  to  do  the  little  things  that  I 
could  to  make  people  happier,  but  have  been 
planning  magnificent  air  castles  of  which  I  could 
never  even  lay  the  foundations.  Yet  I  do  want 
to  be  of  use  and  to  know  that  some  one  is  hap- 
pier for  my  having  lived;  but  I  arn  only  just 
beginning  to  learn  that  the  way  to  accomplish 
this  is  to  'doe  ye  nexte  thynge.'  It  was  the  last 
lesson  I  ever  learned  from  dear  Aunt  Patience, 
and  I  hope  I  shall  remember  it,  and  not  go  back 
to  discontented  dreams  of  what  I  might  be  and 
do  if  I  was  talented,  intellectual,  and  rich.  I 
don't  mean  to  despise  the  little  things  that  come 
in.my  way  just  because  they  are  not  grand  op- 
portunities; but  it  is  hard  sometimes  to  realize 
that  these  little  things  are  just  as  true  service 
as  if  they  were  greater  and  seemed  to  be  more 
worth  the  doing. ' ' 


YE   NEXTE  THYXGE."  79 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"YE   NEXTE  THYNGE." 

IN  the  rush  for  seats  in  the  crowded  street- 
cars Achsah  had  no  opportunity  to  reply  to 
Christie's  words,  but  she  looked  at  her  compan- 
ion's earnest  face  in  surprised  wonder.  Did 
Christie  really  mean  all  that  she  said?  Were 
the  few  verses  she  had  read  so  simply  and  nat- 
urally from  her  Bible  the  night  before  really 
a  guide  to  her  in  her  actions  and  plans  ? 

Not  that  Achsah  had  ever  brought  herself 
to  believe  that  religion  was  altogether  a  pre- 
tence. The  father  who  had  laid  down  his  life 
on  the  frontier,  the  mother  who  had  so  gladly 
undergone  all  the  privations  and  trials  of  a  mis- 
sionary life  that  they  might  carry  the  gospel 
tidings,  were  a  memory  that  forbade  her  to  speak 
or  think  lightly  of  what  they  held  so  dear;  but 
looking  for  inconsistencies  with  keen  eyes,  she 
condemned  failures  in  duty  as  insincerity,  and 
excused  herself  for  her  indifference  to  religion 
on  the  plea  of  others'  faults.  It  was  a  mistake 
that  older  and  wiser  people  than  Achsah  often 
make,  and  she  had  yet  to  learn  that  it  was  a 


8o  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

question  that  she  must  settle  as  absolutely  alone 
as  if  there  was  no  other  being  in  the  universe. 

It  was  a  new  thing  for  her  to  hear  a  young 
girl  of  her  own  age  speak  as  if  she  really 
believed  in  all  that  she  professed,  and  wanted 
to  live  her  life  so  as  best  to  glorify  her  Master. 

It  was  a  pleasant  morning  that  followed  as 
the  girls  turned  over  soft  white  fabrics  and  sheer 
lawns  and  looked  at  laces  and  ribbons.  It  was 
the  first  taste  of  real  girlish  pleasure  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  selection  of  a  dress  that  Achsah  had 
ever  had,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  delights 
of  the  occasion  as  entirely  as  did  Christie. 

They  enjoyed  themselves  even  more  when, 
two  hours  later,  Mrs.  Gilbert  joined  them,  for 
she  so  fully  understood  and  sympathized  with 
young  girls  that  they  never  felt  her  presence  to 
be  any  restraint. 

After  a  busy  hour  of  shopping,  in  which  the 
important  dress  with  all  its  accessories  was 
finally  purchased,  Mrs.  Gilbert  took  the  girls  to 
a  lunch  room,  where  they  were  glad  to  rest  and 
cool  off  as  they  discussed  their  refreshments. 

Christie's  thoughts,  by  some  subtle  chain  of 
association,  wandered  back  to  the  poor  woman  on 
the  ferry-boat,  and  her  face  grew  thoughtful  and 
sober  as  she  remembered  the  frail  little  mother 
and  the  puny  baby. 


"YE   XEXTE  THYXGE."  8l 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  exclaimed  involuntarily, 
with  an  expression  of  dismay. 

"  Have  you  dropped  something  on  your  dress, 
daughter?"  asked  Mrs.  Gilbert,  with  motherly 
anxiety  about  Christie's  pretty  spring  suit. 

"No,  mother,  nothing  as  bad  as  that," 
laughed  Christie,  as  she  became  aware  that  the 
exclamation  had  escaped  her.  "Perhaps  I  had 
better  say,  though,  that  it 's  something  worse,  for 
I  suppose  I  could  get  a  spot  off  without  spoiling 
my  dress,  but  I  am  not  sure  about  the  other.  I 
think  it  is  too  late  to  repair  my  mistake." 

"Is  it  something  about  Achsah's  dress?" 
asked  Mrs.  Gilbert;  then,  as  Christie  smiled 
again,  she  went  on,  "Well,  the  question  of 
dress  is  uppermost  in  my  mind  just  now,  after 
all  our  consultation,  and  if  you  want  me  to  have 
any  ideas  on  any  other  subject,  you  will  have  to 
tell  me  about  them  yourself." 

"So  I  see,"  laughed  Christie.  "  I  am  sorry 
to  have  Achsah  think  I  have  such  a  worldly  and 
frivolous  mother,  but  perhaps  she'll  like  you  a 
little,  notwithstanding  your  love  of  dress.  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  was  thinking  about,  mother,  for 
I'm  sure  you  would  never  guess,"  and  she  de- 
scribed the  poor  woman  whom  they  had  seen 
that  morning  with  her  little  baby. 

"I  am  so  annoved  with  mvself  that  I  didn't 


Christie's  K«>xt  Thin? 


82  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

ask  her  address,"  Christi'e  concluded.  "She  did 
look  so  poor  and  forlorn,  and  I  suppose  there  are 
ever  so  many  things  she  needs.  Perhaps  we 
girls  might  have  been  able  to  do  ever  so  many 
nice  little  things  for  her  if  we  only  knew  where 
she  lived." 

"It  would  have  been  a  very  good  plan  to  get 
her  address,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  assented.  "It  is  just 
possible  that  you  may  see  her  again  some  time, 
for  she  will  have  to  go  backward  and  forward 
on  the  boat  a  great  deal  if  she  brings  the  baby  in 
to  the  hospital  every  day.  Of  course  it  would  be 
a  mere  chance,  but  you  might  watch  for  her." 

"  I  do  hope  we  will  happen  to  meet  her," 
Christie  said,  with  a  brightening  face.  "I  shall 
always  feel  sorry  when  I  think  of  her  if  I  don't 
see  her  again.  She  did  look  so  friendless  and 
discouraged. ' ' 

The  conversation  drifted  to  other  subjects, 
and  the  little  party  sat  finishing  their  lunch  very 
leisurely  until  Mrs.  Gilbert  glanced  at  her  watch 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  "We  must 
make  haste  or  we  shall  lose  the  two  o'clock 
train,"  she  said.  "Come,  girls,  gather  up  your 
bundles,  and  we  will  do  the  best  we  can  to  get 
over  to  the  station  in  time."  They  found  they 
had  not  a  moment  to  spare  and  had  barely  time  to 
hurry  on  the  ferry-boat  before  the  gate  was  shut. 


' 'YE    NEXTE   THYNGE."  83 

Christie's  eyes  roamed  among  the  passengers 
in  eager  quest  of  the  woman  with  her  baby,  al- 
though she  would  not  let  herself  hope  that  the 
object  of  her  search  might  be  in  the  same  boat. 

"Christie,  I  see  her!"  exclaimed  Achsah, 
touching  Christie's  arm  to  attract  her  attention. 

"Where?"  queried  Christie  eagerly. 

"  In  that  corner  at  the  end  of  the  cabin.  You 
can  hardly  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  but  she  is  just 
behind  that  stout  man  reading  a  newspaper." 

Christie's  face  grew  radiant. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad!"  she  exclaimed  joyfully. 
"  Mother,  may  I  go  and  speak  to  her  now;  I  am 
afraid  it  will  be  too  late  after  the  boat  stops." 

Mrs.  Gilbert  smiled  assent,  and  a  moment 
later  the  thin  tired  face  of  the  woman  lighted  up 
with  a  smile  of  pleased  recognition  as  her  friend 
of  the  morning  spoke  to  her.  Christie  stayed  by 
her  until  the  boat  had  nearly  reached  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  and  then  went  back  to  her 
mother,  lest  the  little  party  should  be  separated 
in  the  confusion  which  always  followed  the  land- 
ing of  the  boats. 

"Mother,  I  believe  she  is  my  'nexte  thynge,'  " 
she  whispered,  as  she  deposited  her  bundles  by 
her  mother's  side  in  the  train.  "I  will  tell  }'ou 
all  about  her  when  we  get  home,  and  I  am  be- 
ginning to  have  an  idea  about  her  already." 


84  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

There  was  an  answering  smile  in  Airs.  Gil- 
bert's eyes  as  Christie's  blue  ones  looked  into 
her  face,  full  of  eager  enthusiasm.  It  was  a 
pleasure  to  her  to  encourage  Christie  in  any  of 
her  kindly  plans  for  the  happiness  of  others,  and 
the  young  girl  had  learned  years  ago  that  her 
mother  was  always  a  sympathizing  confidante,  so 
she  never  failed  to  go  to  her  first  of  all,  whenever 
a  plan  suggested  itself  to  her  busy  brain,  assured 
of  help  and  encouragement. 

That  very  afternoon  the  dress  was  begun  ;  the 
breadths  for  the  skirt  were  cut  off,  and  Christie 
sewed  them  on  the  machine  while  Achsah  basted, 
under  Mrs.  Gilbert's  directions. 

"Achsah,  don't  take  the  dress  over  to  the  In- 
stitute when  it's  done,  but  come  over  here  and 
dress  for  Commencement  evening,  so  mother  can 
help  us  both.  It  will  be  ever  so  much  pleasanter 
than  getting  dressed  all  by  yourself  at  the  school. 
I  want  to  fix  your  hair  myself,  and  mother  will 
give  the  finishing-  touches  to  your  sash  and  nich- 
ing, wont  you,  mother?" 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  two  girls  to 
dress  instead  of  one,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  responded. 
"I  think  that  will  be  a  very  good  plan,  Achsah, 
if  you  would  like  it." 

"Of  course  I  would  like  it  above  all  things," 
exclaimed  Achsah  eagerly.  "Why,  I  should  feel 


UYE   NEXTE   THYNGE."  85 

just  as  if  I  belonged  somewhere,  instead  of  being 
all  by  myself." 

"We  are  going  to  be  so  proud  of  Achsah's 
valedictory  that  we'll  be  proud  to  make  believe 
you  belong  to  us,  even  if  it's  only  to  the  extent 
of  dressing  here,"  laughed  Christie.  A  little 
shadow  clouded  the  brightness  of  Achsah's  face. 

"I  have  been  thinking  so  many  times  lately 
how  lovely  it  must  be  to  have  a  mother  to  be 
pleased  if  one  does  well,"  she  said.  "You  are 
so  good  and  kind  to  me,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  that  I  real- 
ize more  than  ever  how  much  it  is  to  have  a 
mother." 

Mrs.  Gilbert  gave  her  a  loving  little  hug,  as 
she  brought  her  work  over  to  her  for  inspection. 

"I  know  no  one  can  take  a  mother's  place, 
dear,"  she  said,  "but  you  must  accept  me  for  a 
substitute  now  and  then,  and  let  me  be  interested 
in  all  that  you  do." 

Achsah  sealed  the  compact  with  a  kiss,  as  the 
motherly  embrace  stirred  her  heart  to  its  depths, 
and  she  knew  that  the  old  desolate  feeling  had 
taken  to  itself  wings  for  ever. 

When  the  evening  meal  was  concluded  and 
Achsah  began  somewhat  reluctantly  to  make 
preparations  for  her  return  to  the  Institute,  she 
saw  Christie's  eyes  fixed  on  her  half  wistfully. 

"What  is  it,  Christie?"  she  asked.     "I  see 


86  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

you  are  just  aching  to  say  something,  and  I 
want  to  know  what  it  is." 

"I  really  have  a  great  mind  to  tell  you," 
Christie  answered.  "I  wonder  what  you  would 
think  of  me  if  I  gave  you  a  little  scolding,  Ach- 
sah?" 

"I  should  think  you  were  the  very  kindest 
and  best  of  friends,  and  meant  it  for  my  good," 
returned  Achsah  promptly.  "Please  tell  me, 
Christie." 

14 1  wish  you  wouldn't  hide  your  real  self 
away,"  said  Christie,  with  a  little  effort.  "Wont 
you  just  be  your  bright  natural  self  when  Monday 
comes,  instead  of  Ishmael?  I  do  want  the  other 
girls  to  know  you  as  you  really  are,  and  I  know 
you  would  like  them  so  much  if  you  only  were 
acquainted  with  them;  and  it  seems  such  a  pity 
for  a  mutual  misunderstanding  to  go  on  to  the 
end  of  the  term.  Please,  Achsah. ' ' 

The  old  hard  expression  came  back  upon  the 
girl's  features,  and  she  shook  her  head. 

"I  can't  do  that  for  you,  Christie,"  she  said. 
"I  don't  care  what  the  girls  think  of  me.  If 
any  of  them  had  ever  showed  me  the  least  kind- 
ness or  consideration  I  might  think  about  it,  but 
it  is  too  late  now.  I  don't  care  whether  they 
think  I  am  disagreeable  or  not." 

Christie  looked  disappointed. 


"YE   NEXTE   THYNGE."  87 

"I  don't  think  you  are  quite  fair  to  them," 
she  said  gently.  "I  am  sure  if  you  will  only 
show  yourself  willing  to  be  friendly  you  wont 
find  them  unwilling  to  meet  you  half  way  at 
least." 

Achsah  looked  incredulous. 

"No,  they  have  never  liked  me,  because  I 
had  not  nice  clothes  to  wear ;  and  I  am  sure 
nothing  I  could  do  would  make  them  change 
their  opinions  of  me.  I  don't  mind  how  the 
rest  of  them  act  now,  you  are  so  good  to  me." 

"Indeed,  Achsah,  it  has  never  been  your 
clothes  altogether  that  kept  the  girls  from  being 
friendly  towards  you,"  said  Christie  earnestly. 
"I  know  that  they  have  felt  that  you  did  not 
like  them  and  would  not  feel  kindly  towards 
them,  so  naturally  they  left  you  alone.  If  you 
would  only  act  at  school  as  you  have  acted  here, 
you  would  find  yourself  just  as  popular  as  any 
girl.  I  do  wish  you  would,  just  to  please  rne,  if 
for  no  other  reason." 

Still  Achsah  hesitated,  but  she  could  not  re- 
sist Christie's  pleading. 

"Well,  I  will  try,"  she  said,  with  sudden  re- 
solve. "I  will  be  just  as  pleasant  as  I  possibly 
can,  since  you  want  me  to,  though  I  know  it  wont 
do  any  good.  I  don't  feel  so  lonely  and  bitter 
any  more,  so  it  wont  be  as  hard  as  it  would  have 


88  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT   THINGS. 

been  last  week  or  even  this  week  to  be  pleasant. 
I  wish  I  could  half  thank  you,  not  only  for  the 
dress,  but  for  this  lovely  visit.  I  don't  know 
when  I  have  ever  enjoyed  myself  so  much,  and  I 
shall  never  feel  again  as  I  did  yesterday  after- 
noon, when  you  found  me  crying  over  my 
dress." 

"I  have  enjoyed  your  visit,  too,"  said  Chris- 
tie, "and  I  am  only  sorry  that  I  never  got  ac- 
quainted with  you  before,  for  we  might  have  had 
so  many  pleasant  times  together.  This  must  be 
the  beginning,  though,  instead  of  the  end." 

It  was  a  light-hearted  Achsah  that  went  back 
to  Maplewood  Institute  just  as  the  shadows  were 
beginning  to  gather.  She  sat  in  the  twilight 
until  the  stars  had  begun  to  gleam  out  one  by 
one,  and  then  she  rose  and  lighted  her  lamp, 
with  a  look  of  pleasant  -determination  upon  her 
face. 

"I  will  do  my  very  best  now,"  she  said,  as 
she  drew  her  portfolio  towards  her  and  bent  over 
some  papers  which  she  took  from  it.  "Now  that 
I  shall  look  -as  well  as  the  other  girls,  and  have 
some  one  to  care  whether  I  succeed  or  not,  I  shall 
work  harder  than  I  ever  have  before  to  make  my 
valedictory  the  best  work  I  have  accomplished." 

She  read  over  her  essay  again  and  again,  with 
a  thoughtful  frown  upon  her  brow,  correcting  a 


"YE   NEXTE   THYXGE."  89 

phrase  here  and  altering  a  sentence  there,  until 
it  suited  her  better.  At  last  nine  o'clock  was 
pealed  slowly  out  by  the  clock  in  the  church 
tower,  and  she  put  her  work  away  and  prepared 
for  bed. 

When  her  light  was  extinguished  she  raised 
the  curtain,  and  kneeling  down  beside  the  win- 
dow looked  up  into  the  quiet  starlit  sky. 

"Mother,"  was  her  heart's  thought,  "I  won- 
der if  you  love  me  and  think  of  me  sometimes 
when  you  are  so  far  away.  Are  you  glad  to- 
night that  I  am  so  happy  and  that  I  have  found 
friends?" 

Some  new  impulse  made  her  bow  her  head 
as  she  knelt  there,  with  the  stars  looking  down 
upon  her  like  the  eyes  of  angels,  and  breathe  a 
prayer  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the  joy  the  day 
had  brought  her  and  a  supplication  for  forgiv- 
ing and  restoring  grace.  Achsah's  life  had  been 
a  prayerless  one  of  late,  and  it  was  no  wonder 
her  burdens  had  seemed  too  heavy  to  be  borne, 
when  she  had  tried  to  carry  them  alone  and  un- 
aided. 

Brief  as  was  her  prayer  to-night,  it  was  one 
step  in  the  right  direction  in  the  path  that  was 
to  lead  her  back  to  the  God  whom  her  parents 
had  loved  and  served,  and  to  whom  they  had 
consecrated  her  at  her  very  birth.  The  bitter 


90  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

thoughts  she  had  harbored  so  long  were  gone 
to-night,  and  her  heart  was  not  filled  with  envy 
of  those  who  had  the  blessings  of  which  her  own 
life  had  been  barren,  but  loving  thoughts  of 
Christie's  kindness  made  her  last  waking  mo- 
ments happy  ones  and  mingled  with  her  dreams. 


COMMENCEMENT.  91 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

COMMENCEMENT. 

ACHSAH  did  not  forget  her  promise  to  Chris- 
tie, and  she  found  herself  looking  forward  to  the 
surprise  of  the  girls  when  they  should  discover 
that  she  was  really  trying  to  be  pleasant  and 
agreeable,  instead  of  apparently  seeking  for  ways 
in  which  to  be  perverse. 

She  was  at  her  desk  Monday  morning  when 
Louise  Rushton  and  Ella  Lindsay  entered  the 
schoolroom,  and  glancing  up  she  nodded  with  a 
pleasant  good  morning. 

"Ishmael  is  in  a  friendly  mood  this  morning, 
isn't  she?"  said  Ella  softly,  behind  her  desk 
cover. 

* '  Yes,  she  seems  to  be, ' '  returned  Louise.  ' '  I 
wonder  what  has  got  into  her  anyhow.  How 
nice  her  hair  looks  too.  It's  a  pity  her  pleasant 
mood  wont  last.  I  suppose  she  would  snap  my 
head  off  if  I  should  venture  another  remark  on 
the  strength  of  her  having  sajd  good  morning." 

A  few  minutes  later  she  uttered  a  petulant 
exclamation. 

"Did  you  ever  know  anything  quite  so  pro- 


92  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT  THINGS. 

voking !  I  have  left  my  geometry  at  home,  and 
I  do  n't  know  what  I  '11  do  without  it.  -  You  can't 
spare  me  yours,  can  you,  Ella?" 

"I'm  really  sorry  I  can't,  but  I  haven't 
looked  at  the  lesson  at  all  yet,"  Ella  responded. 
41 1  shall  have  to  study  every  moment  until  reci- 
tation to  get  through  at  all.  It 's  too  bad." 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  go  home  again,  that's 
all!"  responded  Louise.  "I  '11  be  late  for  school, 
too,  and  lose  all  this  time:  but  I  don't  see  any 
help  for  it." 

Two  days  ago  Achsah  would  not  have  paid 
any  attention  to  this  conversation,  but  now  a  new 
desire  was  actuating  her,  and  she  looked  up  from 
her  book  as  Louise  arose. 

"You  can  take  my  geometry  if  you  wish," 
she  said,  proffering  the  book.  "I  am  almost 
certain  that  I  know  it,  and  if  you  can  let  me  have 
it  just  the  last  ten  minutes,  to-  make  sure  of  it,  I 
can  spare  the  book  now  just  as  well  as  not." 

"It's  ever  so  good  of  you,  Achsah,"  Louise 
said  gratefully.  "I  did  hate  to  think  of  that 
long  walk  in  the  sun,  and  then  I  need  all  my  time 
for  study  this  morning,  anyway.  I  meant  to  get 
up  early,  but  I  overslept  myself,  so  I'm  not  half 
prepared  with  any  of  my  recitations.  Are  you 
sure  you  can  spare  the  book  ?' ' 

"Oh,  yes,   you  are  welcome  to  it,"  Achsah 


COMMENCEMENT.  93 

answered  pleasantly,  and  so  Louise  took  the  book 
with  warm  thanks,  and  sat  down  to  pore  over  the 
lesson,  wondering  in  between  the  problems  if  it 
had  been  her  own  fault  that  she  had  always 
thought  Achsah's  manner  disagreeable  before. 

Christie's  cordial  greeting  to  Achsah  when 
she  came  in  rather  surprised  the  others,  who  had 
not  known  of  her  visit;  but  no  comment  was 
made,  and  when  they  saw  that  Achsah  responded 
pleasantly  to  all  advances,  she  met  with  kindness 
from  the  others  too,  who  had  heretofore  been 
somewhat  in  awe  of  her  sharp  speeches.  As  the 
days  passed  away  one  and  another  regretted  that 
they  had  not  found  out  before  what  a  bright  com- 
panion Achsah  could  be,  and  she  was  compelled 
to  admit  that  it  had  been  largely  her  own  fault 
that  she  had  been  left  to  herself  before,  for  the 
girls  were  quite  ready  to  be  social  and  pleasant 
when  they  found  she  was  willing  to  be  friendly. 

The  great  day  came  at  last  to  which  seven  at 
least  of  the  Maplewood  students  had  been  eagerly 
looking  forward  for  the  past  year.  It  was  a  per- 
fect June  day,  clear  and  cloudless,  and  the  beau- 
tiful weather  completed  the  girls'  happiness,  for 
many  of  them  had  friends  w'ho  were  to  come  from 
a  distance  to  witness  the  closing  exercises. 

Weston  was  very  proud  of  its  Institute,  and  a 
great  deal  of  interest  was  always  manifested  in 


94  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT  THINGS. 

Commencement  night,  so  it  was  not  strange  that 
the  girls  felt  as  if  they  closed  their  school  life 
with  the  eyes  of  all  their  little  world  resting  upon 
them. 

"It's  a  shame  Ishmael  can't  have  a  decent 
dress  for  once,"  Louise  Rushton  said  that  morn- 
ing to  Grace  Davenport,  as  for  the  last  time  the 
girls  gathered  in  the  old  schoolroom  to  rehearse 
their  essays  and  go  through  the  programme  for 
the  evening's  entertainment. 

"I  believe  she  would  be  really  pretty  if  she 
was  only  dressed  becomingly,"  Grace  returned, 
as  she  looked  at  the  quiet  face  which  had  lost  its 
fretful,  peevish  expression.  "Poor  old  Ishmael, 
it's  enough  to  sour  any  one's  disposition  to  have 
to  wear  the  clothes  that  she  does.  Hush,  she 's 
going  to  begin  her  valedictory.  I'm  eager  to 
hear  it." 

All  the  class  were  anxious  to  hear  their  vale- 
dictorian's essay,  and  there  was  a  profound  silence 
while  Achsah  took  her  place.  None  of  the  girls 
feared  that  she  would  disappoint  them,  for  she 
was  admitted  to  be  the  best  writer  in  school,  and 
had  invariably  won  the  first  prize  for  composition 
every  year.  She  had  a  clear  voice,  and  enun- 
ciated distinctly,  and  every  word  could  be  easily 
heard.  The  girls  glanced  at  each  other  in  de- 
light as  she  proceeded.  The  principal  smiled 


COMMENCEMENT.  95 

with  satisfaction  as  she  thought  of  the  credit 
that  Achsah  would  reflect  on  the  Institute,  and 
she  too  wished  that  the  girl  might  be  well  dressed 
for  once. 

Graceful  and  eloquent  was  the  valedictory, 
and  at  times  almost  pathetic,  for  Achsah  had 
realized  at  last  all  that  the  class  might  have  been 
to  each  other  in  the  way  of  mutual  help  and  sym- 
pathy. That  she  had  stood  outside  the  charmed 
circle  had  been  largely  her  own  fault,  and  the  late 
friendliness  which  she  had  proffered  and  won  had 
given  her  a  dim  realization  of  the  friendship  that 
might  have  grown  to  be  a  strong  bond  of  union 
between  them. 

As  she  concluded  there  was  a  hearty  outburst 
of  applause,  led  by  her  classmates  and  joined  in 
by  the  whole  school,  which  Miss  Giddings  did  not 
attempt  to  check.  School  rules  were  not  very 
rigidly  adhered  to  this  last  day  of  the  term,  and 
she  felt  that  Achsah  deserved  this  little  triumph. 

As  Achsah  went  back  to  her  seat,  blushing  at 
the  generous  meed  of  praise  so  freely  bestowed 
upon  her,  she  caught  Christie's  smile  of  loving 
congratulation,  and  an  answering  light  shone  in 
her  own  eyes.  Christie's  kindness  had  been  her 
inspiration  to  do  her  best,  and  the  thought  that 
she  had  some  one  to  rejoice  in  her  success  stimu- 
lated her  to  even  more  than  her  wonted  exertion. 


96  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

It  had  been  a  pleasant  surprise  to  her  to  find  that 
all  her  classmates  were  so  willing  to  show  their 
appreciation  and  felt  her  success  to  be  a  class 
honor,  and  all  trace  of  bitterness  left  her  as  she 
recognized  their  kindly  spirit. 

Perhaps  Miss  Giddings  suspected  that  mother- 
ly Mrs.  Gilbert  intended  to  make  some  addition 
to  Achsah's  usual  plain  toilet,  for  she  very  will- 
ingly assented  to  Christie's  petition  that  Achsah 
might  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  with  her  and 
dress  at  her  house;  so  when  rehearsal  was  over 
the  girls  dispersed,  not  to  meet  again  until  the 
evening. 

Although  every  day  for  some  time  beforehand 
had  been  occupied  with  preparations,  yet  none 
of  the  girls  were  idle  this  last  afternoon.  There 
were  finishing  touches  to  be  put  upon  the  filmy 
dresses  for  the  evening,  a  few  last  moments  spent 
upon  some  difficult  passage  in  a  piece  of  music, 
or  a  little  more  familiarity  to  be  gained  with 
the  essays  which  they  already  knew  almost  by 
heart. 

The  girls  that  lived  near  each  other  paid  fly- 
ing visits,  and  admired  each  other's  dresses  and 
evening  preparations,  and  Mrs.  Gilbert's  room 
was  invaded  half  a  dozen  times  by  girls  eager  to 
see  Christie's  dress  once  more.  It  had  arrived 
the  day  before,  and  Christie  was  in  an  ecstasy  of 


COMMENCEMENT.  97 

delight  over  the  pretty  dress,  with  its  soft  laces 
and  floating  ribbons. 

In  the  next  room  Achsah's  dress  was  spread 
out  upon  the  bed,  none  the  less  beautiful  to  her 
eyes,  although  she  shared  in  Christie's  admira- 
tion of  her  own  dress.  No  one  had  asked  Ach- 
sah  what  she  intended  to  wear,  though  all  the 
various  details  of  the  dresses  of  the  rest  of  the 
class  had  been  discussed  again  and  again  by  al- 
most all  the  school,  who  took  the  most  profound 
interest  in  their  seniors'  doings  upon  Commence- 
ment, and  Achsah  and  Christie  laughed  over  the 
anticipated  surprise  of  the  girls  when  they  should 
see  Achsah  make  her  appearance  that  evening 
as  daintily  robed  as  the  rest. 

The  tempting  tea  that  Mrs.  Gilbert  had  pro- 
vided was  slighted  by  the  girls,  who  were  too  ex- 
cited over  the  evening's  events  to  feel  any  appe- 
tite, and  at  six  o'clock  they  pleaded  to  begin  to 
dress. 

"Oh,  Christie,"  Achsah  exclaimed,  throwing 
her  arms  about  her  friend's  neck,  as  she  touched 
her  pretty  dress  with  almost  loving  fingers,  "I 
don't  know  how  to  thank  you  enough,  and  Mrs. 
Gilbert  too.  How  miserable  I  should  be  to-night 
if  I  had  nothing  to  wear  but  one  of  my  old  dresses. 
I  shouldn't  have  courage  to  read  my  essay  if  I 
felt  that  I  was  disgracing  you  all." 


98  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"No  fear  of  that,"  laughed  Christie,  "when 
you  are  going  to  carry  off  all  the  honors." 

Mrs.  Gilbert  helped  the  girls,  and  Achsah  en- 
joyed the  motherly  touches  that  made  her  look  as 
if  loving  hands  had  been  at  work  for  her. 

There  was  real  affection  in  the  kiss  she  gave 
Achsah  and  in  her  wishes  for  her  success  that 
evening,  when  the  two  girls  started  for  the  hall 
where  the  Commencement  exercises  were  to  be 
held.  Her  sympathies  had  been  warmly  enlisted 
in  behalf  of  the  motherless  girl,  and  it  had  been 
a  pleasure  to  her  to  do  all  she  could  to  make  this 
last  evening  of  her  school-life  a  happy  one. 

When  Achsah  entered  the  little  room  that  had 
been  set  apart  for  the  graduates,  there  was  a  buzz 
of  admiration  as  the  girls  gathered  about  her  and 
freely  expressed  their  approbation  of  her  dress 
and  appearance,  and  Christie  was  radiant  over 
the  success  of  her  plan. 

A  little  later  the  hour  for  opening  the  even- 
ing's exercises  had  arrived,  and  looking  like  a 
"rosebud  garden  of  girls"  the  school  took  their 
places  in  the  hall,  while  the  graduates  went  to 
the  seats  assigned  them  upon  the  platform.  The 
exercises  passed  off  with  great  enjoyment  to  the 
audience.  One  after  another  the  girls,  with  their 
hearts  beating  with  timidity  and  excitement,  read 
their  essays  or  played  their  selections,  and  at 


COMMENCEMENT.  99 

last  the  time  had  come  for  Achsah's  valedictory. 
She  had  been  apt  to  be  somewhat  awkward  and 
abrupt  in  her  movements,  but  this  evening  the 
self-respect  which  her  toilet  gave  her  lent  her 
ease  and  grace.  None  of  the  other  girls  pos- 
sessed Achsah's  marked  individuality,  and  none 
proved  more  attractive  in  appearance  than  the 
slender,  dark-haired  girl  who  came  forward  as  the 
class  valedictorian. 

For  a  moment  her  courage  failed  her  and  her 
cheeks  paled  as  she  saw  the  sea  of  expectant  faces 
before  her;  then  she  saw  Mrs.  Gilbert's  kind  face 
looking  encouragingly  towards  her,  and  summon- 
ing her  resolution  she  determined  that  she  would 
do  her  best,  that  this  kind  friend  should  not  be 
disappointed.  The  first  few  words  were  tremu- 
lous, but  then  her  will  asserted  itself  and  the 
clear  young  voice  could  be  heard  all  over  the 
hall,  while  the  audience  listened  appreciatively 
to  the  speaker. 

When  the  last  words  had  died  away  a  hearty 
burst  of  applause  showed  the  appreciation  of  the 
audience,  and  Achsah  was  called  forward  again 
to  receive  a  basket  of  flowers,  to  which  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert's card  was  attached. 

Achsah's  heart  swelled  with  gratitude  at  this 
proof  of  thoughtful  kindness.  She  had  not  let 
herself  expect  any  flowers,  as  she  had  no  friends 


ioo  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

to  remember  her  in  this  way,  as  the  other  girls 
had,  so  it  was  a  delightful  surprise  to  find  that 
even  this  happiness  was  added  to  the  other  pleas- 
ures of  the  evening. 

Nothing  had  been  lacking,  and  when  the 
diploma  for  which  she  had  studied  so  faithfully 
was  placed  in  her  hand,  she  did  not  remember 
any  of  the  trials  of  her  school-days,  but  only  the 
happiness  with  which  the  last  two  weeks  had 
been  laden. 

"I  owe  it  all  to  you,  Christie,"  she  whis- 
pered gratefully. 

"Only  the  very  smallest  part  of  it,  dear," 
Christie  returned.  "Nothing  that  I  did  made 
your  essay  the  best  of  all,  and  made  you  deliver 
it  so  well.  I  'm  just  as  proud  of  you  as  I  can  be, 
and  so  is  mother.  I  was  watching  her  face  while 
you  were  speaking,  and  she  looked  just  as  happy 
as  if  I  had  been  the  one  who  was  distinguishing 
myself." 

Congratulations  were  not  wanting,  but  the 
words  Achsah  valued  most  of  all  were  the  moth- 
erly ones  which  Mrs.  Gilbert  whispered. 

Miss  Giddings  was  so  pleased  with  Achsah's 
success  that  she  treated  her  with  an  affectionate 
pride  that  was  almost  bewildering  to  the  girl,  who 
had  never  supposed  that  she  was  any  favorite 
with  the  principal. 


Christie's  Next   Things.     Page  101 


COMMENCEMENT.  IOI 

She  was  chatting  merrily  with  Christie  when 
Miss  Giddings  came  to  her  again  and  said  gra- 
ciously, 

"I  am  sorry  to  part  you  from  your  compan- 
ion for  a  few  moments,  Achsah,  but  some  friends 
of  mine  are  anxious  to  meet  you,  and  I  prom- 
ised to  bring  you  to  them." 

Achsah  followed  Miss  Giddings  and  was  pres- 
ently introduced  to  a  lady  and  gentleman  who 
had  been  among  the  guests  of  the  evening. 

Miss  Giddings  left  them  after  a  few  words  of 
explanation  to  Achsah,  and  an  interview  fol- 
lowed which  made  the  young  girl's  face  radiant 
with  delight. 

"What  has  happened  to  you?"  asked  Chris- 
tie laughingly,  when  she  returned  to  her  side  a 
little  later  with  a  suppressed  eagerness  in  her 
manner  that  betrayed  her  excitement.  "Have 
your  friends  presented  you  with  a  gold  mine?" 

"I  feel  as  if  they  had,"  Achsah  returned. 
"Oh,  Christie,  can  you  believe  it?  for  I  hardly 
can:  that  gentleman  and  lady  came  here  for  a 
teacher,  and  have  been  inquiring  about  me  of 
Miss  Giddings,  and  have  asked  me  if  I  would  go 
to  them  after  school  closes,  and  teach  their  little 
girl  who  is  a  cripple.  They  are  going  to  travel 
this  summer  and  in  the  winter  they  live  in  the 
city.  Is  n't  it  too  good  to  believe?" 


io2  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Splendid!"  returned  Christie,  who  knew 
how  necessary  it  was  that  her  friend  should  have 
an  early  opportunity  of  putting  her  education  to 
practical  use.  "  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Well,  I  must  begin  by  saying  that  she 
liked  my  essay,"  began  Achsah,  blushing  a  little; 
"and  then  Miss  Giddings  was  kind  enough  to 
praise  my  scholarship,  and  say  that  I  had  been 
very  thorough  in  all  my  studies.  She  told  her, 
too,  that  I  had  been  fitting  myself  with  a  view  to 
teaching  as  soon  as  I  could  get  a  position.  This 
lady  has  been  wanting  to  procure  a  young  teacher 
for  her  little  girl,  who  could  be  something  of  a 
companion  as  well  as  a  teacher,  and  so  the  de- 
mand and  supply  being  brought  together,  the 
arrangement  was  concluded  at  once.  She  apolo- 
gized for  speaking  about  it  to-night,  but  said  she 
thought  we  could  arrange  matters  more  satisfac- 
torily than  if  she  waited  to  write.  I  am  so 
happy,  for  I  was  afraid  I  should  have  to  wait 
until  next  fall  at  least  and  perhaps  longer.  You 
can't  make  me  believe,  Christie  dear,  that  I  don't 
owe  this  good  fortune  to  you,  for  I  know  she 
would  never  have  even  wanted  to  engage  me  if  I 
had  been  dressed  in  that  hideous  green,  and 
mumbled  my  essay  in  the  subdued  tones  which  I 
certainly  should  have  chosen  if  I  had  felt  myself 
to  be  a  shabby,  friendless  waif." 


COMMENCEMENT.  103 

"  You  cau  insist  that  I  added  a  little  to  your 
outside  adornments  if  you  are  determined  to," 
Christie  said,  "but  you  will  find  it  very  hard  to 
convince  me  that  she  engaged  this  dress  as  an  in- 
structress." 

The  friends  were  separated  for  a  time  as 
Christie  was  called  away  to  speak  to  some  family 
friends  who  wanted  to  congratulate  her  upon  her 
essay  and  diploma,  but  there  was  no  danger  of 
Achsah's  being  neglected  or  left  alone.  There 
were  plenty  to  pay  attention  to  the  young  vale- 
dictorian who  had  borne  her  honors  so  modestly, 
and  it  was  an  evening  of  triumph  for  Achsah. 
Long  after  the_guests  had  dispersed,  and  the  tired 
girls  had  gone  to  rest,  she  tossed  restlessly  about, 
thinking  of  the  events  of  the  evening,  her  prom- 
ising future,  and  of  the  friend  who  had  so  gen- 
erously helped  her  to  be  at  her  best  for  once. 

"I  never  can  repay  Christie  and  kind  Mrs. 
Gilbert,  never,"  she  said  to  herself  again  and 
again. 

"I  wish  I  might  some  day  become  famous,  a 
friend  really  worth  having,"  she  thought  to  her- 
self. "No  matter  how  many  friends  I  have,  I 
shall  never  forget  that  Christie  came  to  me  when 
I  was  alone  and  friendless  and  no  one  cared  what 
became  of  me.  I  was  wholly  discouraged  that 
day,  and  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  stop 


104  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

trying  to  be  anybody  or  to  learn  anything;  and 
she  put  new  hopefulness  into  ine,  and  was  kind  to 
me  even  after  I  had  repulsed  her.  Sweet,  gen- 
erous Christie  !  I  can't  love  her  enough  to  repay 
her  for  all  this." 

With  tender  thoughts  of  her  friend  she  fell 
asleep,  forgetting  entirely  the  infinitely  more 
loving  and  patient  Friend  who  had  given  her 
this  earthly  friend,  and  whose  love  was  more  for- 
bearing and  enduring  than  any  human  love  could 
be. 


PLANS.  105 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PLANS. 

IT  was  two  weeks  after  Commencement,  and 
the  girls  had  begun  to  weary  of  their  idleness 
after  the  excitement  of  the  closing  scenes  of  their 
school-life,  and  some  of  them  to  almost  wish  that 
they  had  a  regular  routine  of  lessons  to  look  for- 
ward to  in  the  fall,  they  felt  so  objectless  with 
their  school-days  behind  them. 

Achsah  alone  did  not  have  any  opportunity  to 
share  this  feeling.  After  a  week  spent  with 
Christie,  during  which  Mrs.  Gilbert  insisted  upon 
helping  her  prepare  a  suitable  wardrobe  for  her 
new  home,  she  had  gone  away  to  enjoy  a  pleasant 
summer  in  travel,  as  well  as  to  begin  her  chosen 
vocation  of  teaching. 

Christie  had  never  let  her  know  that  she  had 
given  up  her  own  summer  trip  that  she  might 
procure  her  the  tasteful  dress  to  which  she  justly 
felt  that  she  owed  so  much;  for  she  knew  it 
would  spoil  all  Achsah1  s  pleasure  in  it  if  she 
should  learn  what  denial  it  had  cost  her  friend. 

Christie  was  glad  that  she  had  chosen  as  she 
did,  for  she  had  delighted  in  Achsah's  success  as 


io6  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

if  it  had  been  her  own,  and  she  knew  she  could 
not  have  enjoyed  her  own  dress  if  her  school- 
mate had  had  to  make  her  appearance  in  the 
soiled  and  unbecoming  silk  or  one  of  her  school 
dresses.  She  still  had  enough  of  her  fifty  dollars 
remaining  to  enable  her  to  carry  out  her  charita- 
ble projects  for  some  time  to  come,  and  she  had 
already  determined  that  a  share  should  be  appro- 
priated towards  the  happiness  and  comfort  of  the 
poor  little  German  woman. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  one  after  an- 
other the  girls  had  dropped  in  until  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  graduating  class  were  gathered  upon 
Mrs.  Gilbert's  porch,  seated  on  the  steps,  in  the 
hammock,  and  on  every  available  perch. 

Commencement  had  been  discussed  so  often 
that  the  girls  were  beginning  to  weary  of  the 
subject,  and  after  a  little  desultory  conversation 
the  girls  had  relapsed  into  a  silence  that  was  only 
broken  now  and  then  by  some  ridiculous  remark 
from  Louise,  who  generally  considered  it  her  mis- 
sion to  be  amusing. 

"Let's  be  very  truthful  and  have  an  open 
confession  of  our  real  feelings,"  suggested  Grace, 
when  Louise  had  rallied  her  upon  her  silence 
with  the  words,  "A  penny  for  your  thoughts!" 

"Who  can  honestly  and  truthfully  say  that 
she  is  glad  her  school -days  are  over?" 


PLANS.  I0; 

"Well,  I  will  lead  the  way  for  the  rest  of 
you,  and  own  up  to  the  truth.  I  for  one  am 
sorry  that  our  days  at  the  dear  old  Institute  are 
over,"  said  Louise.  "I  used  to  think  that  I 
would  be  perfectly  happy  when  I  got  for  ever 
beyond  the  sound  of  Miss  Giddings'  rYoung 
ladies,  attention,  if  you  please,'  and  had  bidden 
an  eternal  farewell  to  my  books;  but  I  am  ac- 
tually hankering  after  them  again." 

"I  feel  all  unsettled,"  said  Ella  Lindsay. 
"Commencement  night  it  seemed  a  grand  and 
inspiring  thing  to  talk  about  beginning  our  voca- 
tion in  life  and  leading  noble  lives  that  would 
enrich  and  bless  the  world;  but  somehow  I  don't 
see  anything  before  me  but  just  an  aimless  sort 
of  drifting.  I  suppose  I  '11  do  like  all  other  girls 
I  know  of  who  have  left  school.  I  really  did 
have  some  high  ambitions  about  the  time  I  was 
writing  my  essay,  but  I  expect  I  shall  be  per- 
fectly contented  to  read  novels,  go  to  parties,  and 
have  as  gay  a  time  as  possible  and  help  mother 
a  little  between  times." 

"It  doesn't  seem  worth  while  to  have  spent 
so  many  years  in  preparing  for  a  vocation,  when 
that  vocation  seems  to  be  principally  that  of 
being  a  butterfly,"  said  Elsie  Dunning. 

"We  wont  be  any  worse  than  any  of  our 
predecessors,  if  we  are  butterflies,"  said  Florence 


io8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

Dinsmore.  "As  long  as  I  have  been  attending 
the  Institute  it  has  always  been  just  the  same 
way.  Commencement  night  a  set  of  girls  have 
graduated  who  have  written  flowery  essays  in 
which  they  have  glorified  the  mission  of  women, 
and  done  their  best  to  convince  you  that  they 
were  a  set  of  heroines  just  waiting  to  finish  their 
education  before  they  would  develop  into  the 
most  remarkable  women  that  ever  lived  in  the 
world.  At  the  very  least  you  would  expect  to 
find  a  few  female  philanthropists,  missionaries, 
famous  writers,  or  household  angels  among  them ; 
but  in  a  few  weeks  these  aspiring  souls  have 
developed  a  great  fondness  for  lawn  tennis,  or 
some  other  high  and  ennobling  pursuit,  that 
somehow  got  left  un mentioned  in  their  essays, 
and  they  all  seem  quite  contented  with  a  very 
matter-of-fact  gay  time.  I  suppose  that  is  just 
what  we  will  do,  and  we  wont  be  any  more  friv- 
olous than  our  predecessors." 

"If  we  only  worked  together,  and  instead  of 
taking  quite  such  high  objects  at  which  to  aim 
as  we  spoke  of  in  our  essays,  were  contented  to 
live  our  class  motto,  I  believe  we  would  be  of 
some  use,"  said  Christie. 

"Hear!  Hear!"  exclaimed  Louise.  "Chris- 
tie has  enough  of  the  Commencement  spirit  still 
left  in  her  to  believe  that  we  needn't  be  abso- 


PLANS.  109 

lutely  frivolous.  Proceed  with  your  speech, 
Christie,  and  if  you  can  show  any  just  or  reason- 
able cause  for  our  being  useful,  we  will  begin  at 
once." 

Christie  laughed.  Louise's  nonsense  never 
overpowered  her  as  it  did  some  of  the  others. 

"Well,  I  have  a  little  plan  that  I  would  like 
to  submit  to  the  wisdom  of  the  class,"  she  pro- 
ceeded. "I  think  it  would  be  nice  for  us  to  be 
united  together  in  some  sort  of  an  informal  so- 
ciety, so  we  needn't  drift  apart  as  the  members 
of  some  of  the  other  classes  have;  and  we  might 
have  general  usefulness  for  an  object.  Of  course 
we  cannot  undertake  any  great  piece  of  work. 
Though  I  would  publicly  stand  up  for  the  many 
and  varied  talents  of  the  members  of  this  class, 
and  deny  that  anything  was  impossible  to  such 
united  talent,  still  privately,  in  the  bosom  of  the 
class,  I  must  confess  I  don't  think  we'll  any  of 
us  make  a  great  stir  in  the  world;  and  if  we  can 
be  helpful  in  some  modest  way,  it  will  be  all 
we  can  do.  If  we  all  work  together,  I  am  sure 
we  will  find  ever  so  many  things  to  do  that  will 
make  people  happier  for  having  known  us,  and 
we  will  be  happy  in  doing  them,  for  then  we 
wont  feel  that  our  life  is  just  an  aimless 
drifting." 

"What    could    we    do?"    queried    practical 


IIO  CHRISTIE  S   NEXT   THINGS. 

Elsie.  "Have  you  thought  of  anything,  or  are 
your  little  things  as  elusive  and  shapeless  as  the 
great  achievements  of  our  essays  seem  to  be?" 

"  Yes,  I  was  thinking  of  something  we  might 
begin  to  do  at  once,"  Christie  replied,  and  she 
told  them  of  the  woman  with  the  sick  baby 
whom  she  had  met  upon  the  ferry-boat. 

"This  morning  mother  and  I  went  down  to 
see  her,"  she  went  on,  as  the  girls  listened  to 
the  pathetic  little  story  with  silent  interest. 
"She  lives  in  the  basement  of  a  miserable  tene- 
ment house,  in  one  front  room  that  is  hardly 
as  large  as  this  porch.  The  baby  is  six  weeks 
old  now,  but.  it  is  such  a  little  puny  mite  you 
might  think  he  was  only  a  few  days  old.  It  is 
damp  and  stifling  both  in  the  room,  if  you  can 
imagine  such  a  combination,  and  the  poor  mother 
looks  as  sick  as  the  baby.  It  is  touching  to  see 
how  fond  she  is  of  him,  and  she  never  seems  to 
think  of  her  own  hardships  in  having  to  take 
him  to  the  hospital  so  often  in  this  hot  weather, 
when  most  of  the  time  she  walks  all  the  way  to 
and  from  the  ferry-boat  for  want  of  car- fare;  but 
she  just  mourns  over  his  suffering." 

"Can't  the  husband  earn  anything?"  asked 
Elsie. 

"  He  has  been  at  work  again  this  last  week," 
Christie  answered,  "but  she  told  us  that  about 


PLANS.  Ill 

two  months  ago  he  hurt  his  hand  and  hasn't 
been  able  to  do  anything  until  just  now.  They 
had  no  money  except  his  daily  earnings,  so  of 
course  they  got  in  debt,  and  it  is  hard  for  them 
to  buy  even  the  plainest  food,  while  they  have 
back  rent  and  grocery  bills  to  pay.  The  poor 
baby  has  scarcely  any  clothes  at  all,  and  the 
mother  isn't  much  better  off." 

"Will  the  baby  always  be  blind?"  asked 
Grace.  Christie  shook  her  head. 

"No,  the  sight  has  left  one  eye  entirely,  but 
the  other  eye  is  almost  well,  and  the  doctor  has 
told  her  that  after  the  next  week  she  need  not 
bring  it  over  to  the  hospital  but  once  a  month. 
He  told  her  to  try  and  get  a  ticket  from  some  of 
the  Fresh  Air  societies  and  go  away  into  the 
country  with  it ;  but  she  is  a  foreigner,  and 
doesn't  know  how  to  go  to  work  to  ask  for  one, 
and  I'm  afraid  she  would  be  too  late  anyway, 
there  are  always  so  many  applications  on  hand. 
Now  don't  you  see  my  plan,  girls?  I  came 
home  full  of  it,  and  I  should  have  called  a  class 
meeting  very  soon  to  talk  it  over,  if  you  hadn't 
all  happened  in  this  afternoon." 

"I  think  I  see  it!"  exclaimed  Louise.  "We 
are  to  be  a  sort  of  fairy  godmother  to  that  poor 
woman  and  her  baby,  and  come  to  her  relief  with 
tea  and  blankets,  or  their  equivalents." 


112  CHRISTIES   NEXT   THINGS. 

"Oh,  Louise,  what  a  melting  suggestion  this 
hot  afternoon!"  exclaimed  Christie  reproachfully, 
wielding  her  large  palm  leaf  with  more  energy, 
as  if  she  imagined  herself  swathed  in  blankets 
and  drinking  hot  tea. 

"Their  equivalents,  if  you  please,  instead  of 
the  real  articles.  I  thought  we  might  make  both 
of  the  poor  things  some  clothes,  and  then — per- 
haps my  opinion  of  what  this  class  could  do 
was  unbounded  by  possibility — but  the  charming 
plan  occurred  to  me  that  perJiaps  it  would  be 
possible  for  us  to  give  her  a  couple  of  weeks  in 
the  country  with  her  baby." 

"I  think  that  would  be  lovely,  if  we  could 
only  do  it,"  exclaimed  Florence  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

"If!  This  class  knows  no  such  word  as  if," 
said  Louise.  "This  class  has  no  limits  to  its 
powers  and  capacities.  It  has  but  to  will  and 
accomplish.  You  are  an  unworthy  member  if 
you  do  not  at  once  and  for  ever  erase  such  an 
ignoble  word." 

"Truly,  I  think  we  could  accomplish  it,"  said 
Elsie.  "We  could  easily  make  the  clothes,  if 
the  thermometer  does  not  rise  any  higher,  and  I 
am  sure  we  could  pay  her  board  somewhere  in 
the  country  with  a  little  self-denial.  Some  of 
us  might  have  to  restrict  ourselves  in  soda  water, 


PLANS.  113 

to  be  sure,"  with  a  mischievous  glance  at  Louise, 
who  was  known  to  squander  all  her  pocket 
money  through  the  summer  months  at  the  soda 
water  fountain. 

"Or  chocolate  caramels,"  retorted  that  young 
lady  in  retaliation,  for  they  were  Elsie's  pet  in- 
dulgence. 

"Let  us  see  what  materials  we  can  collect, 
and  begin  work  as  soon  as  possible,"  suggested 
Florence.  "The  weather  is  so  oppressive  that 
the  sooner  we  can  get  their  clothing  ready  and 
send  them  to  some  cool  place,  the  greater  would 
be  the  chances  of  the  poor  baby's  life,  I  should 
think." 

' '  Suppose  we  meet  every  morning  for  an  hour 
or  so,  for  it  will  be  cooler  then  to  work  than  later 
in  the  day,"  said  Grace.  "It  will  be  such  a 
bother  to  carry  the  work  backward  and  forward 
that  we  had  better  leave  it  at  one  house,  if  any 
one  is  willing  to  take  charge  of  it.  I  would  offer 
our  house,  only  it  is  so  far  out  of  the  way  that  I 
know  you  would  n't  any  of  you  want  to  come." 

"Our  house  is  central,"  interposed  Christie, 
"and  mother  said  we  could  have  any  meetings 
here  that  we  wanted  to,  and  she  would  help  us  if 
we  needed  her." 

"  She  's  a  brick  !"  remarked  Louise,  relapsing 
into  her  favorite  slang,  in  which  she  tried  to  imi- 


ii4  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

tate  her  brother,  who  was  a  college  boy  and  con- 
sequently delighted  in  expressing  his  meaning  in 
as  ambiguous  a  way  as  possible. 

"But,  Christie,  I  thought  you  were  going 
away  very  soon  with  your  aunt,"  said  Grace. 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind  and  given  up  that 
trip,"  Christie  answered  quietly.  She  had  so 
often  spoken  of  her  prospective  pleasure  that  all 
the  girls  knew  she  had  expected  to  be  away  the 
greater  part  of  her  summer,  and  though  she  had 
not  mentioned  the  subject  lately,  none  of  them 
knew  that  she  had  given  it  up. 

"Oh,  Christie  Gilbert,  aren't  you  dreadfully 
disappointed?"  exclaimed  Florence,  who  knew 
how  eagerly  Christie  had  looked  forward  to  it. 

"What  did  you  give  it  up  for?"  queried 
Louise. 

"No,  I  am  not  disappointed,  at  least  not  so 
very  much,"  Christie  replied  in  answer  to  the 
first  question,  "for  I  gave  it  up  of  my  own  ac- 
cord and  had  an  equivalent  in  its  place;  but  I 
wont  tell  you  what  I  gave  it  up  for,  Louise. 
That 's  a  profound  secret." 

"Well,  I  sha'n't  attempt  to  guess,"  Louise 
responded.  "I  can't  imagine  any  inducement 
strong  enough  to  give  up  such  a  perfect  trip  as 
the  one  your  aunt  had  planned.  I  'm  glad  you 
are  not  going,  however,  for  we'd  miss  you  like 


PLANS.  115 

everything,  particularly  if  we  are  going  to  be 
so  useful.  We  will  want  you  for  our  pendulum 
to  keep  us  running  smoothly." 

4 '  Thank  you, ' '  laughed  Christie.  "  It 's  very 
flattering  to  be  told  that  I  am  a  necessary  part  of 
the  class  machinery,  and  I  should  probably  be 
tempted  to  stay  at  home  in  any  case  after  that 
speech." 

"Then,  since  your  mother  is  willing,  we  may 
decide  upon  this  house  being  the  headquarters  for 
our  work,"  said  Elsie.  "This  will  be  such  a 
lovely  place  to  sit  and  sew  these  warm  mornings, 
for  I  believe  there  is  always  a  breeze  upon  this 
porch  if  there  isn't  a  breath  stirring  anywhere 
else.  I  wish  we  could  get  the  things  all  made 
next  week.  It  puts  me  in  a  perspiration  to  think 
of  that  stifling  basement  a  day  like  this." 

"And  you  can't  even  begin  to  imagine  how 
stifling  it  is  unless  you  have  seen  it,"  Christie 
said,  with  a  little  shudder  at  the  remembrance  of 
the  close  room  and  the  odors  that  came  in 
through  the  window  from  the  piles  of  rubbish  in 
the  street. 

"  I  should  think  we  could  easily  make  at  least 
one  change  apiece  for  each  of  them,"  said  Ella, 
"  and  then  they  could  go  away  somewhere  while 
we  were  making  the  rest.  I  'in  in  a  hurry  to  get 
them  into  the  countrv." 


n6  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"I  wish  they  could  come  out  here,"  said 
Florence. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  nice  !"  agreed  Christie.  "  I 
don't  know  whom  we  could  get  to  board  them 
though." 

"I  don't  either,"  Louise  said.  "I  don't 
suppose  we  could  think  of  engaging  rooms  at  the 
hotel  or  any  of  the  summer  boarding-houses  for 
them,  and  I  don't  know  of  any  other  place  where 
we  could  get  a  room  for  them." 

"There  wont  be  any  trouble  in  finding  a 
place  somewhere,"  Grace  interposed.  "There 
are  ever  so  many  places  where  they  take  just 
such  people  at  very  low  rates,  so  it  does  n't  really 
matter  if  we  can't  have  her  here,  though  of 
course  it  would  be  much  nicer.  Well,  I  must  be 
going  home.  It  is  agreed  that  we  meet  Monday 
morning  at  nine  o'clock,  with  all  the  materials 
we  can  collect,  and  begin  work.  Is  any  one 
coming  my  way?" 

"  I  am,"  Florence  answered,  rising  to  her  feet 
and  brushing  off  the  shower  of  pink  and  white 
petals  that  had  drifted  down  upon  her  while  she 
had  been  sitting  upon  the  steps.  "Monday 
morning,  then,  we'll  have  a  class  reunion,  and 
turn  ourselves  into  a  Dorcas  instead  of  a  literary 
society." 

The  other  girls  soon  dispersed,  and  Christie 


PLANS.  1 1 7 

went  in  to  find  her  mother  and  acquaint  her  with 
the  success  of  her  plan  for  the  poor  woman's 
relief. 

u  I  knew  the  girls  would  like  a  piece  of  work 
of  that  kind,"  her  mother  said.  UI  think  in 
about  a  week  or  ten  days  at  most  you  will  have 
the  poor  mother  away  from  that  stifling  alley,  and 
breathing  the  pure  air  somewhere.  It  will  be 
the  only  thing  that  will  save  that  poor  baby's 
life,  I  am  sure.  Now,  Christie,  don't  you  want  to 
take  a  walk  with  me  ?  I  want  to  take  some  work 
out  to  Miss  Abigail,  and  the  sun  is  so  low  that  I 
think  we  will  find  it  very  pleasant  by  the  river." 

"That  will  be  delightful,"  Christie  assented 
eagerly,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  mother  and 
daughter  were  on  their  way.  The  road  wound 
along  by  the  river,  and  the  breeze  which  rippled 
the  placid  surface  of  the  broad  stream  was  very 
refreshing  after  the  heat  of  the  day. 

It  was  somewhat  over  a  mile  to  their  destina- 
tion, but  the  time  passed  away  so  pleasantly  that 
the  walk  did  not  seem  at  all  long,  and  they  were 
soon  at  Miss  Abigail's  gate. 


n8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

CHAPTERX. 

MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE. 

IT  was  a  little  old-fashioned  rambling  house 
before  which  Christie  and  her  mother  stopped, 
the  low  picket-fence  overrun  with  vines,  and  the 
flower-beds  before  the  windows  looking  as  if  they 
might  have  been  planted  in  the  time  of  our 
grandmothers,  so  quaint  and  "old  timey  "  were 
the  flowers. 

A  little  old  lady  sat  by  the  window  knitting, 
and  the  bright  needles  gleamed  like  silver  as  they 
flashed  backward  and  forward  in  her  nimble  fin- 
gers, though  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  river 
and  she  scarcely  seemed  to  heed  what  she  was 
doing. 

As  the  latch  of  her  gate  was  lifted  the  click 
broke  in  upon  her  reverie,  and  she  sprang  to  her 
feet,  while  a  look  of  welcome  brightened  her  face. 

She  was  an  active  little  woman,  one  to  whom 
the  New  England  epithet  of  "spry"  would  most 
aptly  apply.  She  always  reminded  Christie  of  a 
little  wren,  her  movements  were  so  quick,  and 
she  had  a  birdlike  fashion  of  poising  her  head  on 
one  side  when  she  talked,  her  bright  black  eyes 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  119 

fairly  snapping  with  eagerness  when  she  grew 
much  interested  in  what  she  was  saying. 

Miss  Abigail  was  the  last  of  a  large  family 
who  had  been  born  in  the  little  brown  house,  and 
she  could  easily  remember  when  the  garden  that 
was  so  quiet  now  had  been  filled  with  a  troop  of 
noisy  and  bonneted  children  who  had  played  and 
frolicked  together,  as  happy  and  unconscious  of 
care  as  if  they  had  been  the  fledglings  in  one 
of  the  nests  that  were  hidden  away  beneath  the 
eaves. 

One  after  another  the  quiet  village  of  the 
dead  had  made  room  for  them,  and  a  short  green 
mound  had  marked  the  ended  child  life,  until  at 
last  only  Miss  Abigail  and  her  youngest  brother 
had  been  left  with  the  father  and  mother  in  the 
home  nest. 

There  was  a  vein  of  waywardness  in  this 
youngest  boy  that  grieved  the  parents,  who  had 
found  all  their  other  children  dutiful  and  docile. 
It  was  as  if  a  cuckoo's  egg  had  been  hatched  in  a 
dove's  nest,  and  as  the  boy  grew  older  there  were 
scenes  of  contention  in  the  quiet  little  house,  and 
harsh  words  would  pass  between  the  father  and 
the  son,  while  the  sorrowful  mother  would  shed 
tears  over  the  wayward  boy  who  was  so  totally 
unlike  all  her  other  children. 

These  quarrels  had  culminated  one  night  in  a 


i2o  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

bitter  contention  in  which  the  boy  had  flung  him- 
self out  of  the  house,  declaring  that  he  would 
never  enter  it  again  as  long  as  he  lived.  He  had 
disappeared  in  the  darkness,  and  no  one  had  ever 
seen  or  heard  of  him  again.  Day  after  day  the 
feeble  old  mother  watched  for  some  sign  or  word 
from  her  wandering  boy,  his  mother's  darling 
yet  in  spite  of  all  his  wrong-doing,  for  was  he  not 
her  baby,  the  last  to  lie  upon  her  heart  in  uncon- 
scious infancy,  and  to  be  cradled  in  her  arms  ! 

The  old  father  passed  away,  leaving  his  for- 
giveness and  blessing  for  the  wanderer,  and  at 
last  there  came  a  day  when  the  mother  too  knew 
that  she  could  not  wait  for  her  boy's  return. 

"  You  will  never  leave  the  old  home,  will  you, 
Abby  ?"  she  quavered  pitifully,  her  fast  dimming 
eyes  fixed  on  her  daughter  in  eager  entreaty. 
"Promise  me  that  Tim  will  always  find  his  home 
here  when  he  comes  back,  for  I  know  he  will 
come  some  day.  He  was  always  a  good  boy  at 
heart,  if  he  did  anger  his  father.  You  will  al- 
ways keep  a  light  burning  in  the  window  for  him 
and  the  door  on  the  latch,  wont  you,  Abby?  Tell 
him  I  waited  as  long  as  I  could  for  him  and  I 
always  loved  him  to  the  last." 

"I'll  be  waiting  for  him  when  he  comes, 
mother,"  Abby  promised,  and  a  look  of  content 
crossed  the  eaeer  face. 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  121 

"You  wont  forget?  You'll  always  stay 
here?"  asked  the  feeble  voice  again;  and  as  once 
more  the  daughter  promised,  the  dim  old  eyes 
closed  to  open  upon  the  radiance  of  heaven,  and 
Abigail  was  left  alone  in  the  home  which  had 
once  been  so  full  of  young  life. 

It  seemed  to  her  then  like  the  deserted  last 
year's  nest  swinging  tenantless  and  desolate  in 
the  limb  of  the  old  apple-tree,  and  she  wished 
that  she  might  have  gone  with  her  mother.  A 
less  brave  and  joyous  spirit  might  have  grown 
gloomy,  and  self-pitying  with  such  a  lonely  life, 
but  by  the  time  the  green  sod  had  stretched  its 
velvety  mantle  over  the  newly-turned  earth 
which  marked  the  place  where  the  mother  was 
laid  to  rest  beside  her  children,  Miss  Abigail  had 
learned  a  lesson  of  sweet  content. 

Her  Christian  life  was  an  earnest,  practical 
one,  and  she  drew  sweet  lessons  of  trust  in  her 
Heavenly  Father  from  her  surroundings  that 
might  have  been  passed  unheeded  by  careless 
eyes.  The  river  with  its  broad  sweep  of  blue 
was  a  never  failing  comforter,  and  even  the  little 
brown  sparrows  that  hopped  fearlessly  about  her, 
making  friendly  advances  towards  her,  with  their 
bright  eyes  fixed  upon  her  half  confidently,  half 
curiously,  chirped  to  her  of  the  love  and  care 
which  watched  over  even  the  feathered  creation 


122  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

so  that  not  one  sparrow  could  fall  to  the  ground 
unheeded. 

It  troubled  her  most  to  think  that  her  life  was 
not  a  more  useful  one,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that 
caring  principally  for  her  own  needs  was  a  selfish 
existence,  and  not  what  she  was  put  into  the 
world  for.  Many  of  her  acquaintances  would 
have  borne  witness  to  her  kindness  of  heart  and 
told  of  long  vigils  with  the  sick,  of  stitches  taken 
for  tired  mothers,  of  many  a  little  delicacy  sent  to 
tempt  an  invalid's  capricious  taste;  but  of  these 
things  Miss  Abigail  took  no  account  "  It 's  only 
a  pleasure,"  she  would  say,  so  cordially  that  no 
one  could  doubt  her  sincerity. 

She  was  expert  in  the  use  of  her  needle,  as 
only  those  are  who  learned  to  sew  before  the  days 
of  machines  had  supplanted  the  daintily  set  stitch- 
es that  were  beautiful  in  their  regularity  and 
neatness,  and  she  found  no  difficulty  in  getting 
plenty  of  sewing  to  do. 

She  was  always  glad  of  visitors,  for  she  was 
a  sociable  little  body  and  delighted  in  a  chat  with 
any  of  her  friends. 

She  welcomed  Mrs.  Gilbert  and  Christie  with 
hearty  cordiality,  slipping  her  knitting  into  the 
capacious  pocket  of  her  apron,  while  she  came 
forward  with  outstretched  hands. 

"Well,  now,  I  am  certainly  glad  to  see  you  !" 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  123 

she  exclaimed.  "Will  you  come  in,  or  shall  I 
bring  chairs  out  here  for  you  where  you  can  look 
at  the  river  while  you  sit?  I'm  so  fond  of  it 
myself  I  always  take  it  for  granted  that  other 
folks  must  enjoy  it  too.  It's  great  company  to 
me  lately,  particularly  now  that  I  a'  n't  got  much 
to  do  but  look  at  it." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  not  very  busy 
just  now,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  remarked,  as  they  took 
the  chairs  that  Miss  Abigail  placed  for  them. 
"I  have  a  little  sewing  that  I  wanted  you  to  do, 
and  I  was  afraid  that  perhaps  you  might  have  so 
much  on  hand  that  I  should  have  to  wait  for  a 
while.  It  isn't  very  often  that  you  are  to  be 
found  without  plenty  of  work. " 

"Bless  your  heart,  it  isn't  for  lack  of  work 
that  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  look  at  the  river," 
Miss  Abigail  exclaimed  energetically.  "I've 
work  enough  on  hand  for  a  month,  but  it 's  my 
eyes.  They  seem  to  have  clean  given  out  en- 
tirely for  anything  like  sewing,  though  I  can  pot- 
ter around  and  do  other  things  well  enough.  I 
can  knit  without  my  eyes,  so  I  don't  really  have 
to  sit  with  my  hands  folded,  and  I'm  thankful 
enough  for  that;  but  it's  pretty  hard  to  give  my 
sewing  up." 

"Indeed  it  must  be  hard,"   Mrs.   Gilbert  re- 
marked  sympathizing!}'.       "You  are  so  fond  of 


124  CHRISTIE'S  XEXT  THINGS. 

sewing  that  it  must  be  a  real  deprivation  to  have 
to  lay  it  aside  entirely.  Your  eyes  will  be  better 
soon  if  you  rest  them,  wont  they?" 

"I'm  in  hopes  they  will,"  Miss  Abigail  an- 
swered. "I  suppose  it 's  the  Lord's  way  of  teach- 
ing me  a  lesson  of  trust,  for  I  can't  quite  see  my 
way  clear  to  getting  along  without  my  little  earn- 
ings unless  I  begin  to  use  the  little  I  have  laid  up 
for  a  rainy  day  ;  and  I  hate  to  do  that.  I  suppose 
I  must  just  believe  he's  able  and  willing  to  pro- 
vide for  me  without  my  making  any  provision 
for  myself,  any  more  than  one  of  these  little  spar- 
rows, but  it's  human  nature  to  feel  more  like 
trusting  if  you're  doing  something  for  yourself, 
and  human  nature 's  mighty  strong  in  me,  1  am 
finding  out.  I  sha'  n't  really  suffer  for  food,  with 
what  I  've  got  in  my  garden,  but  one  don't  know 
how  to  get  on  without  a  little  money  now  and 
then." 

"'Casting  all  your  care  upon  Him,  for  He 
careth  for  you,'  "  said  Mrs. Gilbert. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  responded  Miss  Abigail, 
"and  yet  a' n't  it  strange!  it  seems  as  if  I'd 
rather  nurse  my  care  and  hold  on  to  it  and  worry 
over  it  than  just  lay  it  on  One  who's  willing  and 
able  to  bear  it  all.  Queer,  what  human  nature  is. 
I  often  wonder  how  the  good  Lord  can  keep  his 
patience  with  us  when  we're  so  trying.  Well, 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  125 

the  good  Book  says  he  knows  the  frailty  of  our 
frame  and  seeth  we  are  but  dust,  and  maybe  he 
pities  us  for  being  such  poor  foolish  creatures. 
Perhaps  he  has  taken  my  work  away  to  give  me 
something  else  to  do  for  him.  I'll  just  try  and 
bide  patient  for  what  he  sends  me  next.  If  it 
will  please  him  to  send  me  something  to  do  by 
which  I  can  earn  my  living  and  at  the  same  time 
be  doing  something  for  other  folks,  I'll  be  glad 
and  happy.  If  he  should  mean  that  I'm  just  to 
sit  with  folded  hands  and  not  be  of  any  good,  why 
he  '11  give  me  grace  for  that,  though  it  will  be  the 
hardest  work  of  my  life.  I  '11  try  and  keep  ready 
for  my  next  work,  \\  latever  it  may  be." 

A  sudden  light  flashed  into  Christie's  face  as 
she  listened. 

"Miss  Abigail,"  she  asked,  "would  it  be  too 
much  trouble  to  you  to  give  me  a  glass  of  your 
nice  spring  water?" 

"No,  indeed,  child.  Why,  I  ought  to  have 
thought  of  it  myself,"  and  hospitable  Miss  Abi- 
gail hurried  away. 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  Christie  eagerly,  "I 
was  so  eager  to  ask  you  something  that  I  could  n't 
wait  till  we  started  home.  I  wonder  if  I  can't 
put  Miss  Abigail  in  the  way  of  the  'next'  that 
she  is  waiting  for.  She  has  plenty  of  room  in 
her  house  for  company,  and  I  wonder  if  she 


126  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

would  n't  board  that  woman  and  her  baby  for  us? 
Just  think  how  lovely  it  would  be  to  have  them 
here  by  the  river,  with  lots  of  fresh  air  and  good 
wholesome  food." 

Miss  Abigail  was  pattering  back  with  a  glass 
brimming  full  of  clear  cold  water,  and  Christie 
had  to  read  her  mother's  approval  of  her  plan  in 
her  face. 

"  Miss  Abigail,  Christie  has  a  plan  to  propose 
to  you,  I  think,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  said,  when  Christie 
hesitated  a  little  about  beginning  her  project.  So 
Christie  went  back  to  the  meeting  on  the  ferry- 
boat, and  Miss  Abigail  listened  with  many  an 
exclamation  of  pity. 

"  Poor  little  soul !"  she  said  pitifully.  "  If  I 
was  only  able  to  earn  a  bit  with  my  needle,  now, 
I  'd  love  to  make  her  bring  that  poor  baby  here 
and  get  a  breath  of  good  air." 

"That's  just  my  plan,  Miss  Abigail,"  ex- 
claimed Christie  eagerly.  "We  want  to  send 
them  somewhere  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  of 
course  there  are  places  for  people  that  we  could 
send  them  to,  but  we  thought  it  would  be  so 
much  nicer  if  they  could  be  here  where  we  could 
see  them  sometimes;  and  we  couldn't  think  of 
any  one  who  had  room  who  would  be  willing  to 
take  them.  Now  I  was  just  thinking  what  a 
beautiful  place  this  would  be  for  her,  and  if  you 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  127 

would  only  take  her  and  let  us  pay  you  for  liei 
whatever  you  thought  right,  it  would  be  so  nice. 
What  do  you  say?"' 

"Why,  that  she's  heartily  welcome,"  an- 
swered Miss  Abigail.  "  I  'd  be  far  better  pleased 
if  I  could  see  my  way  to  doing  for  her  without  a 
cent  of  money  in  return;  but  the  L/ord  is  pro- 
viding for  me  in  this  way  at  the  same  time  he 's 
providing  for  her,  so  it  a'  n't  right  for  me  not  to 
be  thankful  for  his  provision  for  me.  Besides,  I 
dare  say  I  can  find  plenty  of  chances  to  do  a 
hand's  turn  for  her  now  and  again,  that  I  can 
feel  I  am  doing  for  one  of  his  little  ones,  even  if 
I  am  paid  for  her  keep.  Yes,  I'll  be  ready  for 
her  any  day,  Miss  Christie,  and  the  sooner  the 
better  for  her.  Do  n't  wait  to  get  her  clothes  all 
ready,  for  she  can  have  those  after  she  gets  here, 
and  she  ought  to  have  her  baby  here  this  moment" 

"I  will  talk  to  the  girls  about  it  Monday 
morning,  and  then  I  will  come  out  here  in  the 
afternoon  and  tell  you  when  to  expect  her," 
Christie  said, 'delighted  at  Miss  Abigail's  acquies- 
cence. "We  will  have  to  tell  her  about  it  first, 
so  that  her  husband  can  make  some  arrangement 
to  get  his  meals  somewhere  while  she  is  gone ; 
and  I  am  afraid  we  can  hardly  get  her  here  before 
Wednesday  or  Thursday  ;  but  I  am  eager  to  see 
her  face  when  she  finds  out  that  she  is  to  be  here 


128  CHRISTIE'S  XEXT  THINGS. 

with  you,  where  she  can  look  at  this  beautiful 
river.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  will  take  her,  Miss 
Abigail!  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you 
enough." 

UI  am  the  one  to  thank  you,  child,"  Miss 
Abigail  answered.  "I  couldn't  have  chosen  a 
bit  of  work  for  myself  that  would  have  pleased 
me  as  well  as  this,  and  I  '11  be  as  happy  as  a 
queen  again.  Maybe  I'll  have  faith  enough  to 
trust  the  Lord  for  what  will  come  next  when  I 
can't  quite  see  the  way,  for  I  've  had  a  chance  to 
learn  over  and  over  again  that  he  always  plans 
for  me  better  than  I  could  for  myself.  I  'm  sorry 
I  can't  do  your  sewing,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  but  you 
know  how  it  is;  I'm  willing  enough  if  only  my 
eyes  would  let  me." 

"  I  feel  as  you  do,  that  the  Lord  is  giving  you 
other  work  just  now,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  answered, 
"and  I  am  so  glad  that  you  can  give  this  poor 
woman  a  share  of  your  peaceful  home  that  I  am 
quite  willing  to  be  disappointed  about  my  sew- 
ing. I  wish  we  could  sit  longer,  Miss  Abigail, 
the  river  is  so  beautiful  in  the  sunset,  but  we 
must  start  homeward,  or  Mr.  Gilbert  will  not 
know  what  has  become  of  us.  You  will  see 
Christie  often  enough  now,  I  expect,  to  make  up 
for  the  shortness  of  our  visit.  Good-by." 

(c  Could  anything  be  lovelier?"  asked  Christie 


MISS  ABIGAIL'S  NEXTE.  129 

joyfully,  as  they  turned  tlieir  steps  towards  home. 
"I  don't  think  there  is  a  place  in  the  world 
where  that  poor  little  woman  could  be  more  kind- 
ly treated  than  Miss  Abigail  will  treat  her,  and 
this  lovely  river  view  will  make  her  forget  to 
look  so  sad  and  desolate." 

"Perhaps  Miss  Abigail  can  teach  her  some 
of  her  own  trustfulness,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  responded. 
u  I  always  feel  that  I  have  learned  something  new 
when  I  have  had  a  little  talk  with  her,  and  we 
could  all  learn  a  lesson  from  her." 

"I  wonder  I  did  not  think  about  the  proba- 
bility of  Miss  Abigail's  being  able  to  take  her  be- 
fore," Christie  said.  "I  couldn't  think  of  any 
one  who  would  be  willing  to  take  the  trouble  to 
care  for  a  woman  with  a  sick  baby,  unless,  of 
course,  we  could  pay  a  good  deal  of  board  for  her, 
but  Miss  Abigail's  is  just  the  place.  She  will 
be  glad  to  do  it,  more  for  the  sake  of  the  opportu- 
nity of  doing  good  than  for  the  money  she  can 
earn  in  that  way.  Now  we  must  get  that  poor 
baby  here  as  soon  as  possible." 


130  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    ARRIVAL. 

PROMPTLY  at  nine  o'clock  on  Monday  morn- 
ing the  girls  assembled  at  Mrs.  Gilbert's,  each 
one  well  laden  with  all  that  she  had  been  able 
to  collect  for  the  poor  woman. 

They  were  as  delighted  as  Christie  had  been 
when  they  learned  that  Miss  Abigail  was  willing 
to  open  her  little  home  for  the  poor  babe  and  its 
mother,  and  were  anxious  to  get  them  out  of  the 
hot  basement  room  as  quickly  as  possible. 

When  they  opened  their  bundles  and  ex- 
hibited their  contributions,  they  were  delighted 
to  find  that  a  great  deal  was  ready  for  immediate 
use.  A  dark  calico  wrapper  which  had  been 
well  worn  and  was  somewhat  faded,  but  still  in 
good  condition,  needed  only  a  few  stitches  to 
make  it  ready  for  use;  and  various  articles  of 
under  apparel  were  laid  aside  with  the  wrapper. 
Grace  Davenport  had  gone  to  a  friend  who  had 
lost  a  little  babe  some  time  before,  and  the 
mother  had  selected  several  little  garments 
which  were  plain  enough  to  be  suitable  and 
serviceable  and  sent  them  for  this  little  one. 


THE   ARRIVAL.  131 

"I  believe  \ve  have  enough  already  for  them 
to  wear  out  here,"  Elsie  said.  UI  wonder  if 
they  could  come  to-morrow  afternoon.  If  it  is 
hot  here  on  this  shady  porch,  what  must  it  be 
where  they  are!" 

"How  can  we  get  word  to  the  woman?" 
asked  Ella. 

"I  should  suggest  that  two  of  you  girls 
should  go  in  to  see  her  this  afternoon  when  it 
is  cooler,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  said,  from  her  seat  at 
the  window.  "Perhaps  she  could  come  to- 
morrow if  she  knew  about  it  to-night." 

The  girls  were  very  much  pleased  with  this 
plan,  and  they  decided  that  Elsie  and  Christie 
should  go  down  in  the  afternoon  train  and  make 
arrangements  with  the  poor  mother  to  come  out 
as  soon  as  possible  with  her  babe. 

It  was  quite  warm  when  Elsie  and  Christie 
started  on  their  trip,  but  when  they  reached  the 
street  where  the  object  of  their  expedition  lived, 
they  felt  as  if  the  noonday  heat  in  Weston  would 
be  refreshing  compared  to  this  close  stifling  at- 
mosphere. 

Christie  remembered  the  house,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  tall  tenement  that  seemed  dingier  and 
more  overcrowded  than  ever  in  comparison  with 
the  pretty  houses  of  Weston  and  the  broad  elm- 
shadowed  streets. 


132  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"What  a  dreadful  place!"  exclaimed  Elsie 
with  a  shudder  of  disgust,  as  she  followed  Chris- 
tie down  the  stone  steps. 

Christie  opened  the  door  that  led  into  the 
dark  narrow  hall,  and  knocked  at  the  first  door. 

"Come,"  was  the  response,  and  she  opened 
the  door  to  see  the  pale  little  woman,  who  looked 
whiter  and  more  fragile  than  ever,  sitting  in  a 
chair  by  the  window  fanning  the  mite  of  a  baby 
upon  her  knee  with  an  old  newspaper  doubled 
up  to  serve  as  a  fan. 

"Poor  little  thing!"  said  Elsie  pityingly,  as 
she  looked  at  the  wasted  face  and  transparent 
tiny  hands,  that  looked  too  waxen  to  belong  to 
a  living  child. 

Christie  had  hard  work  to  explain  the  pur- 
pose of  her  visit  to  the  mother,  and  she  and  Elsie 
had  to  search  for  the  simplest  language  and  the 
most  expressive  gestures  to  convey  their  mean- 
ing. When  at  last  it  dawned  upon  her  that  she 
was  to  take  her  baby  away  from  that  hot,  close 
room,  where  no  breath  of  fresh  air  could  possibly 
penetrate,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  joyful  tears, 
and  fairly  overpowered  the  girls  with  her  broken 
exclamations  of  gratitude. 

When  they  gave  her  the  clothes  they  had 
brought  her  delight  knew  no  bounds,  and  she 
seemed  even  more  pleased  with  the  soft  garments 


THE    ARRIVAL.  133 

for  the  baby  than  with  the  clothes  that  she  her- 
self needed  so  much. 

Everything  about  the  room  was  scrupulously 
clean,  poor  and  bare  as  it  was,  and  the  baby 
showed  that  he  was  carefully  cared  for  as  far 
as  cleanliness  went. 

' '  He  look  pretty  in  new  dress  ?  You  no 
think  so?"  asked  the  mother  proudly,  as  she 
held  up  the  little  slip,  which,  plain  though  it 
was,  looked  very  dainty  and  pretty  beside  the 
coarse  calico  frock  which  was  faded  and  well 
mended,  besides  being  much  too  large  for  the 
tiny  child. 

Before  the  girls  came  away  they  had  arranged 
that  the  mother  and  babe  should  come  out  to 
Weston  on  the  nine  o'clock  train,  when  Christie 
and  Elsie  would  meet  them  with  a  carriage  and 
take  them  to  Miss  Abigail's  house. 

Christie  thoughtfully  left  some  money  for 
travelling  expenses,  thinking  that  even  that 
small  sum  might  be  an  impossible  one  for  the 
mother  to  procure  upon  such  short  notice. 

They  found  that  the  husband  could  stay  with 
his  sister  on  the  next  block  during  his  wife's 
absence,  and  that  he  would  be  delighted  to  have 
the  baby  away  in  the  country. 

"He  loves  very  much  the  baby,"  the  mother 
said. 


134  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

It  was  drawing  near  the  close  of  the  after- 
noon when  the  girls  reached  Weston,  and  they 
were  afraid  it  would  be  too  late  to  go  out  and 
give  Miss  Abigail  notice  of  the  arrival  of  her 
expected  guests  upon  the  morrow.  Much  to 
their  surprise  and  pleasure,  Florence  was  waiting 
at  the  station  with  a  wide  phaeton. 

"I  thought  you  would  want  to  go  out  to  Miss 
Abigail's  to-night,  though  you  didn't  say  any- 
thing about  it  this  morning,"  she  said,  "so  I 
came  to  meet  you  and  can  drive  you  out  if  you 
want  to  go. ' ' 

"That  is  splendid!"  exclaimed  Christie  with 
a  look  of  relief.  "I  wanted  Miss  Abigail  to 
know  all  about  it  to-night,  but  I  didn't  see  how 
we  were  ever  going  to  walk  out  there  and  back 
before  dark." 

"When  are  they  coining?"  asked  Florence, 
as  the  girls  seated  themselves  in  the  phaeton  and 
the  horse  started  briskly  up  the  street. 

"To-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock,"  Elsie 
answered.  "Oh,  Florence,  you  ought  to  see 
that  poor  little  baby;  it  isn't  much  larger  than 
a  good-sized  doll,  and  so  thin  and  wan  looking. 
I  am  sure  it  couldn't  have  lived  much  longer 
in  that  wretched  cellar.  Why,  I  could  hardly 
breathe  while  we  were  in  it." 

"How  it  will  thrive  at  Miss  Abigail's!"  said 


THE   ARRIVAL.  135 

Florence.  "She  will  coddle  it  and  nurse'it  till 
it  is  a  real  fat  country  boy.  I  am  so  glad  they 
are  coming." 

Miss  Abigail  was  delighted  to  hear  of  the 
speedy  advent  of  her  visitors. 

"Ready  for  them?"  she  echoed  in  response  to 
Christie's  question.  "Why,  I'm  ready  for  them 
now.  I  got  their  room  all  fixed  this  morning, 
I  was  in  such  a  hurry  for  them  to  come.  Just 
step  in  and  look  at  it,  wont  you?  I  was  going 
to  give  her  one  of  the  up-stairs  chambers,  and 
then  I  thought  just  as  like  the  poor  little  woman 
wouldn't  feel  like  travelling  up  and  down  stairs 
half-a-dozen  times  a  day,  so  I  concluded  I'd  fix 
up  the  room  for  her  that  mother  had  after  she 
took  to  her  bed.  It's  a  room  I've  always  been 
meaning  to  take  for  my  bedroom  when  I  get  too 
old  and  feeble  to  go  up  and  down  stairs.  I  'd  like 
it  now,  but  it  seems  kind  of  shiftless  to  have  a 
room  down  stairs  as  long  as  you  're  able-bodied." 

While  she  had  been  talking  she  had  been 
leading  the  way  with  swift,  pattering  footsteps, 
and  now  she  ushered  them  into  a  square  room 
that  opened  off  the  parlor. 

"Oh,  if  you  could  just  see  her  home,  Miss 
Abigail,  you  would  know  what  a  little  bit  of 
heaven  this  will  seem  like  to  her,"  exclaimed 
Elsie,  as  she  glanced  around  the  room. 


136  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"I'm  glad  you  think  it  looks  nice,"  said 
Miss  Abigail  with  gratified  pride. 

The  floor  was  as  white  as  years  of  scrubbing 
could  make  it,  with  bright  braided  mats  laid 
here  and  there  upon  it.  The  high  four-posted 
bed  looked  very  inviting,  with  its  neat  patch- 
work quilt  and  the  snowy  sheets  already  turned 
down  for  the  expected  occupant.  Feathery 
plumes  of  asparagus  waved  behind  the  looking- 
glass,  and  upon  the  walls  were  portraits  of  the 
children  of  the  family,  chubby  unsmiling  faces, 
as  if  they  were  awed  at  the  thought  of  having 
their  pictures  taken. 

The  article  of  furniture  which  delighted  the 
girls  most  was  an  old-fashioned  cradle  that  stood 
beside  the  bed,  and  they  exclaimed  over  it,  while 
Miss  Abigail  looked  on  with  a  smile  that  was 
a  little  tremulous,  as  if  tears  were  not  very  far 
away.  "We  were  all  rocked  in  that,"  she  said, 
touching  the  wooden  rocker  with  her  foot  so  it 
swayed  backward  and  forward — "  every  one  of  us 
brothers  and  sisters;  and  it  seems  strange  to 
think  it  will  be  used  again  in  this  house.  I 
can't  tell  you  how  it  made  me  feel  when  I 
fetched  it  down  from  the  garret." 

"Just  imagine  that  poor  little  baby  in  this 
soft  nest!"  exclaimed  Christie.  "You  will  love 
him  dearly  when  you  see  him,  Miss  Abigail,  he 


THE   ARRIVAL.  137 

is  such  a  mite;  but  he  will  soon  get  fat  and 
strong  here. ' ' 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  rang  out  six  strokes 
in  as  business-like  and  peremptory  a  way  as  if 
it  had  somehow  caught  some  of  Miss  Abigail's 
briskness,  and  Florence  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"What,  is  it  six  o'clock  already!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Come,  girls,  we  must  hurry,  or  our 
mothers  wont  know  what  has  become  of  us. 
Good-by,  Miss  Abigail.  You'll  soon  see  me 
again." 

Miss  Abigail  stood  at  the  gate  and  looked 
after  the  happy  girls  with  a  smile  on  her  face  as 
she  waved  her  hand  to  them  in  farewell. 

"Now  a'n't  it  beautiful  to  see  them  about 
their  Father's  business!"  she  said  to  herself. 
"And  they're  happy  in  it  too,  as  of  course 
they  should  be,  for  it  always  brings  a  blessing. 
And  isn't  it  a  privilege,  when  you  come  to 
think  it  all  out,  that  we're  let  to  do  anything 
for  him,  when  he  has  all  those  angels  to  do  his 
bidding?  To  think  that  when  we  are  doing  for 
that  poor  bit  of  a  babe  and  its  mother,  we  can 
say  to  ourselves  those  blessed  words,  '  Inasmuch 
as  ye  have  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these  my 
brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me!,  Wonderful! 
wonderful!" 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  whose  antici- 


138  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

pations  that  night  were  the  more  pleasurable, 
those  of  poor  Christina  Ehrich,  as  she  hugged  her 
wailing  baby,  while  tears  of  gratitude  rained  down 
her  pallid  cheeks,  or  those  of  the  girls  who  were 
looking  forward  to  her  coming. 

Miss  Abigail  too  was  in  a  state  of  excitement 
that  was  unusual  with  her,  and  she  pattered  in 
and  out  of  the  room  a  dozen  times  to  see  if  she 
could  not  find  something  more  to  add  to  make 
the  room  more  comfortable. 

She  even  ransacked  the  hidden  treasures  of 
an  old  chest  in  the  garret,  and  produced  in  tri- 
umph a  \vooden  rattle  for  the  baby  guest's 
amusement. 

Miss  Abigail  smiled  at  her  own  folly  the  next 
day  when  she  saw  the  tiny  bird-like  hands  that 
were  too  feeble  to  close  around  the  mother's 
ringer.  But  Miss  Abigail  had  had  long  years 
in  which  to  forget  the  tastes  and  capacities  of 
even  a  lusty,  vigorous  six-weeks-old  baby,  and 
the  rattle  showed  the  strength  of  her  good  inten- 
tions if  not  of  her  judgment. 

All  the  girls  were  eager  to  see  their  protfgfes 
the  next  morning,  but  they  managed  to  restrain 
their  eagerness,  lest  it  should  embarrass  the  little 
mother. 

Christie  and  Elsie  drove  down  to  the  station 
with  a  two-seated  carriage  to  meet  their  guest, 


THE    ARRIVAL.  139 

and  their  faces  were  as  eager  with  excitement  as 
if  they  expected  to  meet  a  dear  friend,  when  they 
heard  the  train  whistling  for  the  station. 

"Wont  we  be  disappointed  if  she  doesn't 
come!"  said  Elsie,  as  they  hitched  the  horse  and 
went  around  to  the  platform. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  much  danger  of 
that,"  Christie  answered. 

If  they  had  seen  Mrs.  Ehrich  waiting  impa- 
tiently in  the  station  fully  half  aw  hour  before 
train-time,  they  would  both  have  been  quite  sure 
that  she  would  not  fail  them. 

There  were  not  many  passengers  for  Weston 
at  that  early  hour  in  the  morning,  though  the  cars 
going  the  other  way  were  crowded  with  gentle- 
men going  to  business. 

The  second  person  to  alight  was  Mrs.  Ehrich, 
a  brighter  look  on  her  face  than  Christie  could 
have  believed  it  possible  for  her  to  wear,  with  her 
baby  tightly  clasped  in  her  arms. 

The  girls  gave  her  a  warm  welcome,  and 
helped  her  into  the  carriage  with  her  bundle,  and 
the  little  party  were  soon  driving  rapidly  along 
beside  the  river  towards  Miss  Abigail's  house. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  any  one  look  more  delight- 
ed?" Elsie  whispered,  as  she  glanced  back  at  the 
thin  face  that  was  gazing  in  rapt  admiration  at 
the  river. 


140  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Isn't  it  lovely  to  think  we  can  have  her 
here!"  Christie  returned.  "And  doesn't  the 
baby  look  sweet  in  that  little  white  slip  and 
knitted  shawl?  If  you  could  only  have  seen  the 
coarse  bit  of  burlap  that  she  had  him  wrapped  up 
in  when  I  first  saw  them  !" 

Miss  Abigail  was  watching  for  her  guests,  and 
as  soon  as  the  carriage  came  around  the  curve 
of  the  road  she  ran  down  to  the  gate  in  a  nutter 
of  eager  welcome. 

"  Why,*  you  poor  little  mite,  you  a'  n't  bigger 
than  a  kitten,  to  be  sure!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
held  out  her  strong  hands  for  the  baby.  "  I  do  n't 
know  who  looks  the  sickest,  the  mother  or 
the  baby,"  she  went  on  in  an  aside  to  Christie 
as  Elsie  lifted  the  small  bundle  out  and  helped  the 
mother  to  alight. 

"They'll  both  look  the  better  for  your  good 
care,  Miss  Abigail,"  Christie  returned,  touching 
the  baby's  wasted  cheeks  with  caressing  fingers, 
as  she  looked  pityingly  at  the  wan  little  face  with 
its  closed  eyes. 

"I've  got  a  nice  breakfast  waiting  for  her," 
Miss  Abigail  went  on,  leading  the  way  into  the 
house.  "I  did  n't  suppose  she'd  have  much  of 
a  one  before  she  started,  and  I  knew  the  journey 
and  the  fresh  air  would  be  likely  to  give  her  an 
appetite  anyhow.  I'll  just  show  her  where  the 


THE   ARRIVAL.  141 

cradle  is,  and  then  if  she  has  a  mind  she  can  put 
him  right  down  in  it  and  come  to  the  table.  Is 
he  sick  or  clean  worn  out,  or  do  you  s'pose  he 
don't  ever  open  his  eyes?" 

"Oh,  he  opens  his  eyes  sometimes,"  Christie 
explained.  "He  has  lost  the  sight  of  one  eye, 
the  one  that  is  lighter  than  the  other,  but  he  can 
open  them  both.  He  looks  to  me  as  if  he  was 
too  tired  to  try  to  look  around,  though  perhaps  he 
is  asleep. ' ' 

Miss  Abigail  carried  the  baby  into  the  room 
she  had  prepared  for  her  guests,  and,  apparently 
under  the  impression  that  a  foreigner  who  could 
speak  very  little  English  must  necessarily  be 
somewhat  deaf,  and  must  be  addressed  in  as  bro- 
ken speech  as  possible,  cried  out  in  high-pitched 
tones, 

"Cradle  for  baby.  You  put  him  in  and  he 
rest.  You  come  eat." 

The  girls  smiled  at  each  other  as  they  listened 
to  Miss  Abigail's  shrill  tones,  but  to  the  little 
German  woman  she  only  appeared  to  be  an  object 
of  the  most  profound  gratitude.  When  she  saw 
the  little  cradle,  with  its  soft  white  sheets  and 
tiny  pillow,  she  seized  Miss  Abigail's  disengaged 
hand  and  kissed  it  again  and  again  in  an  out- 
burst of  gratitude  that  embarrassed  the  good 
woman,  who  was  not  used  to  such  demonstrations. 


142  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"There,  there,  never  mind!"  she  exclaimed, 
trying  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  the  eager  grasp. 
"  You  just  take  your  baby  now,  and  don't  mind 
me.  Bless  your  heart,  I  a'  n't  doing  anything 
but  what's  a  pleasure  to  do." 

The  mother  took  the  baby  from  Miss  Abigail, 
with  another  outburst  of  broken  thanks,  and  lay- 
ing aside  the  knitted  shawl  and  tiny  cap,  put 
him  in  the  soft  white  nest.  The  little  sheets  and 
other  appurtenances  of  the  cradle  had  been  packed 
away  with  sprigs  of  lavender,  and  as  the  baby 
nestled  into  the  soft  pillow  a  subtle  fragrance 
arose. 

' '  I  wish  you  would  stay  and  let  me  give  you 
something  to  eat  too,"  Miss  Abigail  said,  as  she 
left  Mrs.  Ehrich  to  take  off  her  bonnet,  and  fol- 
lowed the  girls  out  into  the  hall. 

"The  table  looks  very  inviting,  Miss  Abi- 
gail," Christie  said,  "but  we  must  start  home 
now.  The  girls  are  sewing  at  our  house,  and 
they  will  be  anxious  to  hear  how  the  baby  got 
here  and  all  about  it." 

The  table  did  indeed  look  very  inviting,  with 
its  bright  red  cloth  and  the  old-fashioned  blue 
china  set  upon  it.  The  kettle  was  singing  on  the 
wood  fire  which  Miss  Abigail  had  just  kindled, 
and  a  plate  of  fresh-laid  eggs  were  ready  to  be 
cooked  as  soon  as  the  water  should  boil.  The 


THE    ARRIVAL.  143 

loaf  of  home-made  bread  looked  deliciously  crisp 
and  brown,  and  the  girls  could  fancy  how  good 
everything  would  taste,  eaten  in  that  scrupu- 
lously clean,  airy  kitchen,  where  one  could  feast 
her  eyes  upon  the  river  all  the  time. 

Bidding  Miss  Abigail  good-by  they  drove 
away,  carrying  with  them  a  pleasant  memory  of 
the  delighted  smile  upon  the  thin,  wan  face  of 
the  mother  framed  in  by  the  vine- wreathed  win- 
dow. 


144  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

REST. 

As  soon  as  the  girls  had  driven  away  Miss 
Abigail  bustled  about,  upon  hospitable  thoughts 
intent,  and  soon  had  the  guest  seated  at  the  table, 
enjoying  the  meal  she  had  prepared  for  her. 

It  was  as  acceptable  as  Miss  Abigail  had 
thought,  for  in  the  excitement  of  getting  started 
Mrs.  Ehrich  had  scarcely  broken  her  fast,  and  in 
truth  there  had  been  little  enough  to  eat  in  the 
almost  empty  cupboard.  The  cup  of  fragrant  tea 
and  its  accompaniments  were  an  unusual  luxury, 
and,  much  to  Miss  Abigail's  alarm,  Mrs.  Ehrich 
acted  as  if  she  were  about  to  again  embrace  the 
hand  that  was  ministering  to  her  wants,  and  Miss 
Abigail  flew  about  in  a  more  wren-like  fashion  than 
ever,  that  she  might  be  out  of  the  way  of  danger. 

Mrs.  Ehrich  perceived  at  last  that  her  hostess 
did  not  understand  the  way  in  which  she  relieved 
her  overcharged  heart,  and  she  refrained  from  all 
manifestations  of  gratitude  except  broken  words 
of  thanks. 

After  she  had  concluded  her  meal  she  wanted 
to  help  Miss  Abigail  wash  the  breakfast  things 


REST.  I45 

and  clear  the  table,  but  the  good  woman  would 
not  hear  of  this.  In  her  eyes  her  guest  looked 
only  fit  for  bed,  she  was  so  thin  and  feeble.  Re- 
turning to  her  high-pitched  tones,  she  said  to  her, 
with  emphatic  gestures  and  very  distinct  utter- 
ance, 

"  You  sit  in  chair.    You  rest.     I  can  do  this." 

Mrs.  Ehrich  yielded,  and  sat  in  the  broad,  low, 
rush-bottomed  rocking-chair  upon  the  cosey  porch, 
letting  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  tranquil  river  and 
listening  to  the  song  of  the  birds,  who  had  nested 
in  those  same  trees  for  years  and  felt  as  much  at 
home  about  the  little  brown  house  as  did  Miss 
Abigail  herself. 

At  last  the  baby  stirred  uneasily  in  his  fra- 
grant couch,  and  the  mother's  ear  heard  the  little 
feeble  wail.  She  brought  him  out  on  the  porch 
and  sat  and  rocked  him  there,  while  he  had  his 
meal  too,  and  Miss  Abigail,  pattering  about  her 
work,  stopped  every  now  and  then  to  glance  out 
at  the  pair  with  a  look  of  supreme  content. 

"I  declare  to  goodness  he  looks  better  al- 
ready," she  said,  as  the  eyes  unclosed  and  the 
baby  seemed  to  be  enjoying  the  cool  breeze  as 
much  as  his  mother. 

"He  like  it  very  much,"  the  mother  said,  as 
she  caught  Miss  Abigail's  glance,  and  with  a 
swift  gesture  she  indicated  the  river,  the  sky,  the 

Christie1"  Next  Things.  IO 


146  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

trees,  and  the  roses  that  nodded  at  them  from  the 
porch-rail. 

"I  dare  say,  poor  little  fellow,"  answered 
Miss  Abigail,  forgetting  her  shrill  tones  and 
speaking  in  a  more  natural  voice  than  Mrs.  Eh- 
rich  had  heard  her  use  before. 

Through  the  rest  of  the  morning  the  mother 
sat  there,  content  to  rest  and  drink  in  the  beauty 
around  her,  while  the  peacefulness  of  the  scene 
stole  into  her  heart. 

Meantime  the  girls  stitched  busily  away,  de- 
lighted with  the  account  which  Christie  and  Elsie 
gave  them  of  the  woman's  gratitude  at  her  recep- 
tion by  Miss  Abigail. 

"I  can  just  imagine  Miss  Abby's  face  when 
she  found  her  hand  being  kissed,"  laughed 
Louise.  "I  dare  say  she  set  it  down  as  one  of 
the  'play  acting'  ways  of  foreigners,  but  she  is 
so  sorry  for  this  poor  woman  that  I  don't  think 
she  will  lay  it  up  against  her."  % 

"I  am  in  a  hurry  to  see  the  baby,"  Grace 
said,  as  she  took  the  last  stitches  in  a  little  slip  of 
flowered  print.  u  I  think  we  might  go  out  there 
this  afternoon,  and  take  some  more  of  the  clothes 
as  an  excuse  for  going,  if  we  feel  as  if  we  needed 
one  for  overrunning  Miss  Abigail." 

"We  will  any  of  us  be  quite  welcome,  I  can 
assure  you,"  Christie  said.  "Miss  Abigail  is 


REST.  147 

one  of  the  most  hospitable  souls  in  the  world,  and 
always  enjoys  company;  besides  she  knows  we 
all  feel  a  sense  of  proprietorship  in  her  guests." 

"How  much  are  we  to  pay  every  week  for 
this  woman's  board?"  asked  Ella. 

"Well,  it 's  so  little  that  I  feel  as  if  we  were 
imposing  upon  Miss  Abigail's  goodness  of  heart 
in  letting  her  take  so  much  trouble  for  so  small  a 
return,"  Christie  answered;  "but  you  know  she 
is  very  set  in  her  way,  and  she  named  a  price  that 
she  said  would  cover  all  her  extra  expenses  and 
let  her  make  a  little  besides,  and  she  wouldn't 
hear  of  taking  a  cent  more." 

"How  much  is  it?  three  dollars?"  asked 
Florence. 

"  No,  only  two,"  Christie  answered;  and  as 
the  girls  exclaimed  in  surprise  she  added  apolo- 
getically, "  I  should  feel  better  if  we  were  paying 
a  little  more,  but  she  wont  let  us.'  There  is  one 
good  thing,  we  can  certainly  keep  the  baby  there 
all  through  the  hot  weather  if  Mrs.  Ehrich  can 
stay  away  from  home  so  long.  It  would  be  so 
nice  if  they  could  both  go  home  looking  real 
strong  and  well." 

"We  can  certainly  afford  to  give  them  the 
opportunity,  at  that  rate,"  Grace  said.  "  Christie, 
you  shall  be  our  treasurer,  and  we  will  divide  the 
amount  up  among  us,  and  each  pay  our  share  to 


148  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

you  every  week.  I  am  going  to  give  you  this 
now,  for  I  am  sure  after  I  break  it  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  keep  it  very  long,  and  I  may  be  out  of 
funds  for  a  while  when  this  is  gone." 

She  took  a  crisp  two-dollar  note  from  her 
purse  and  gave  it  to  Christie,  and  the  others 
began  to  search  in  their  pockets  for  their  porte- 
monnaies,  that  the  first  payment  for  Mrs.  Eh- 
rich's  board  might  be  made  at  once. 

When  it  was  time  to  disperse,  Louise  lingered 
behind,  to  help  Christie  put  away  the  work  and 
carry  it  to  a  disused  closet  up  stairs  which  had 
been  set  apart  for  that  purpose. 

She  did  not  seem  in  any  hurry  to  take  her  de- 
parture, so  Christie  took  her  into  her  own  room, 
and  made  her  comfortable  in  the  rocking-chair 
while  she  dusted  and  did  some  little  tasks  she 
had  not  had  time  to  do  earlier  in  the  morning,  on 
account  of  her  drive  to  Miss  Abigail's  house. 

Louise  seemed  to  be  in  a  restless  frame  of 
mind  and  body  alike,  and  she  chatted  on  in  such 
a  desultory  way  that  Christie  could  not  fail  to 
notice  her  preoccupation. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Louise  ?"  she 
asked  at  last,  with  a  merry  laugh,  when  her  com- 
panion had  replied  absently,  "I  guess  so,"  to  an 
inquiry  Christie  had  made  concerning  a  birthday 
party  which  it  was  rumored  was  to  be  given  soon. 


REST.  149 

"Well,  I'm  rather  upset  in  my  mind  over 
a  letter  I  got  last  night,"  Louise  answered. 
"  Christie,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question,  and 
of  course  you  needn't  answer  it  if  you  would 
rather  not,  but  I  am  not  asking  just  from  idle 
curiosity.  Would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you 
gave  up  your  trip  ?  Was  it  for  some  greater 
pleasure  that  you  expected  to  have  in  some  way 
yourself,  or  to  give  some  one  else  pleasure?  I 
want  to  know  because  I  think  your  decision  will 
help  me  about  something." 

Christie  flushed. 

"I  don't  like  to  tell  you,  Louise,  just  exactly 
why  I  did  it,  because  it  is  somebody  else's  secret, 
else  I  would;  and  I  don't  like  to  say  it  was  to 
give  some  one  else  pleasure,  because  that  sounds 
so  conceited,  but  that  was  the  first  reason.  It 
seemed  to  be  the  '  nexte  thynge '  that  came  in 
my  way,  and  I  found  that  by  giving  up  my  trip  I 
could  give  some  one  else  a  great  deal  more  hap- 
piness than  the  trip  would  give  me.  Just  at  the 
very  first  it  seemed  rather  a  sacrifice,  but  I  am 
sure  that  ever  since  I  have  enjoyed  the  other  use 
that  I  made  of  the  money  far  more  than  if  I  had 
spent  it  as  I  at  first  intended." 

"I  wish  I  wasn't  selfish,"  Louise  sighed, 
"  or  else  that  I  had  n't  any  conscience  to  bother 
me  when  I  want  to  put  my  own  happiness  first; 


150  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

I  would  have  a  great  deal  better  time  then  than  I 
do  now.  Do  you  ever  half  wish  you  were  n't  a 
church  member,  Christie?" 

"Why,  Louise,  what  a  question  !"  and  Chris- 
tie looked  at  her  visitor  in  surprise.  "Why,  no. 
I  do  feel  sometimes  as  if  it  were  a  very  great 
responsibility,  and  I  have  times  of  worrying  lest 
my  inconsistencies  may  be  keeping  some  one  else 
away;  but  I  am  never  sorry.  I  could  n't  be." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  ever  ought  to  have 
united  with  the  church,"  Louise  said  thought- 
fully. "I  don't  feel  as  you  do;  and  yet  we 
united  at  the  same  communion,  and  I  can  re- 
member how  happy  I  was  that  day.  I  thought 
living  would  be  such  a  grand  thing  after  that; 
and  it 's  just  the  same  routine  of  petty,  trying 
things  that  it  always  was,  and  there  never  are 
any  opportunities  for  anything  but  just  common- 
places. I'm  disappointed.  I  suppose  the  fault 
is  in  myself  somewhere." 

"Don't  you  think  you  are  disappointed  be- 
cause you  expect  something  more  than  just  the 
ordinary  events  of  life?"  asked  Christie.  "I 
have  had  my  times  of  being  dreadfully  discon- 
tented, and  because  I  could  n't  be  somebody  great 
and  wonderful,  it  did  n't  seem  worth  while  to  live 
at  all  except  just  for  my  own  pleasure.  Dear 
Aunt  Patience  used  to  help  me  very  much,  and  I 


REST.  151 

don't  think  I  shall  ever  forget  that  last  talk  we 
had.  It  will  always  be  an  inspiration  to  me. 
She  explained  to  me  that  probably  no  great 
opportunities  would  ever  come  to  me,  and  that  I 
could  do  a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  usefulness  and 
help  to  others  by  the  simple  ministry  of  '  nexte 
thynges.'  I  really  believe  it  is  harder  to  do  just 
these  little  bits  of  things  than  great  deeds.  If 
one  has  an  opportunity  to  do  some  heroic  deed, 
there  is  a  sort  of  inspiration  about  it  that  makes  it 
easier  to  do;  but  these  little  things  that  come  to 
one  in  the  day's  routine  aren't  apt  to  be  at  all 
inspiring;  and  unless  you  think  of  them  as  ser- 
vice for  Christ,  just  as  much  as  great  things, 
since  they  are  what  he  has  appointed  for  us,  it  is 
a  burden  to  do  them  instead  of  a  joy." 

"But  do  you  really  feel  as  if  these  little 
things  counted?"  asked  Louise. 

"  Yes,  at  last  I  have  come  to  being  contented 
with  them,  and  trying  to  do  each  one  with  all  my 
heart,"  Christie  answered.  "I'll  give  you  one 
instance  of  what  my  little  things  are  sometimes, 
though  I  expect  you  will  laugh  at  me.  I  hate  to 
dust,  and  when  I  am  down  in  the  parlor  with  my 
duster  I  am  always  tempted  to  slight  out-of-the- 
way  things.  The  dust  always  gathers  on  the 
piano  legs  that  stand  nearest  to  the  wall,  and 
I  used  to  slight  them  almost  every  day  because 


152  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

they  were  out  of  sight  and  I  knew  no  one  would 
know  whether  I  dusted  them  or  not.  I  know 
it  seems  foolish  to  think  that  it  is  really  a  matter 
of  right  and  wrong  whether  I  dust  them  or  not, 
but  I  really  believe  it  is.  It  is  one  of  the  little 
trivial  duties  that  are  part  of  my  day's  work,  and 
it  is  appointed  just  as  much  as  if  it  was  some- 
thing heroic  instead  of  one  of  the  most  common- 
place things  in  the  world.  If  I  really  believe 
that  is  something  that  has  been  appointed  for  me, 
I  would  not  be  willing  to  slight  it.  I  have  found 
real  pleasure  in  thoroughly  dusting  all  the  out-of- 
the-way  corners  since  I  have  believed  that  it  was 
the  'nexte  thynge'  that  came  to  my  hand  just 
then." 

"I  would  rather  do  something  that  looked 
larger  than  these  hateful  little  things,  though," 
Louise  said. 

"I  would  too,"  confessed  Christie.  "But  if 
God  hasn't  planned  great  things  for  us,  which  is 
better  for  us — to  do  the  work  he  has  appointed, 
even  if  it  isn't  quite  to  our  liking,  or  not  to  do 
anything?  I  have  found  out  something  else  in 
my  discouraged  times,  Louise.  I  found  that  I 
couldn't,  of  myself,  keep  the  warm  love  that  I 
had  in  my  heart  at  first;  I  have  to  keep  constant- 
ly asking  for  love,  or  I  should  grow  cold  and 
indifferent  very  soon.  It  is  strange  that  we  can't 


REST. 


153 


do  such  a  natural  thing  as  love  in  return  for  all 
that  has  been  done  for  us  without  help;  but  I 
find  that  I  can't,  and  perhaps  others  are  the  same. 
I  am  like  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness:  I  can't 
lay  up  a  store  of  love  and  help  that  will  last  me 
for  days  ahead.  If  I  don't  ask  every  day  for 
strength  for  the  day's  needs,  I  find  that  my 
supply  fails  utterly.  I  copied  some  lines,  that 
Aunt  Patience  pointed  out  to  me,  into  my  com- 
monplace book.  Would  you  like  to  hear  them, 
or  do  n't  you  like  poetry  ?" 

"Did  you  ever  know  a  schoolgirl  who  didn't 
like  poetry?"  asked  Louise,  a  smile  breaking 
through  her  thoughtful  expression.  "Yes,  do 
read  it  to  me." 

Christie  opened  her  commonplace  book,  into 
which  were  copied  many  of  her  favorite  passages, 
and  read, 

"  '  Not  on  the  mountain-tops  the  manna  fell, 

Caressed  by  cloudlets,  by  the  sunlight  kissed, 
So  near  to  heaven  that  the  stern  gray  peaks 
Melted  away  in  tender  amethyst ; 

"  '  Nay,  not  upon  these  silent  mist-crowned  heights, 

So  far  above  the  hungering  multitude 
That  they  could  only  view  with  longing  eyes 
The  promised  bread  of  life,  the  angels'  food; 

" '  Nor  chaliced  in  the  rocky  clefts  was  stored 

The  daily  manna,  where  the  weary  feet 
Must  scale  the  heights  till  flesh  and  spirit  failed 
And  sank  exhausted  in  the  noonday  heat. 


154  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

" '  Not  so  came  down  from  heaven  the  daily  food, 

But  scattered  'midst  the  desert's  shining  sands, 
Where  each  could  freely  gather  for  his  needs, 
And  e'en  a  child  could  rill  its  little  hands. 

" '  With  each  day's  journey  came  the  daily  bread, 

Strengthening  and  nourishing  with  angels'  food 
The  weary  people  ever  marching  on 
Into  the  desert's  dreary  solitude. 

"  '  E'en  so  I  think  the  manna  falls  to-day, 

Scattered  among  the  duties  small  that  lie 
Like  desert  sands  before  our  feet  each  day, 
For  hourly  needs  a  bountiful  supply. 

"  '  Not  on  the  peaceful  heights  sublime  'and  fair 

That  tower  above  the  plain  of  daily  need, 
Nor  hidden  like  wild  honey  in  the  clefts, 
Gained  only  by  some  brave  and  toilsome  deed. 

"  '  O  hungering  soul,  stretch  forth  thine  empty  hand ; 

For  each  day's  trials  God  gives  daily  grace, 
'Tis  always  close  at  hand,  then  trust  his  love, 
And  let  distrust  to  sweet  content  give  place.' 

'"I  think  this  expresses  what  I  want  to  tell 
you,  and  what  I  have  found  out  in  my  own  expe- 
rience. Our  strength  is  just  like  the  manna;  we 
have  to  gather  it  every  day,  or  it  fails  us." 

"I  have  an  opportunity  to  be  self-sacrificing 
in  a  very  ordinary,  commonplace  way,"  said 
Louise,  drawing  a  letter  from  her  pocket.  "I 
suppose  if  it  was  something  that  would  be 
sounded  abroad  with  a  trumpet,  I  should  be  quite 
willing  to  do  it;  but  as  nobody  will  give  me  any 
credit  for  it,  or,  even  if  they  know  of  it,  think 


REST.  155 

that  I  have  done  anything  but  my  duty,  I  just 
feel  disposed  to  hush  my  conscience  up  and  con- 
sult only  my  own  happiness." 

"I  don't  believe  you  would  consult  your 
happiness  by  hushing  up  your  conscience  as  you 
threaten  to  do,"  said  Christie,  smiling. 

UI  may  as  well  tell  you  what  it  is,  since  I 
am  making  you  my  mother  confessor  this  morn- 
ing," said  Louise.  "Aunt  Belle  has  taken  a 
cottage  at  the  beach  this  summer,  and  in  this 
letter  she  says  she  has  room  for  just  one  more, 
although  she  is  pretty  well  crowded  already. 
She  wants  me  to  come  and  spend  two  or  three 
weeks  with  her,  and  tells  what  fun  the  girls  are 
having;  then,  just  as  an  afterthought,  she  tucks 
in  this  little  sentence,  which  has  quite  spoiled 
the  delight  with  which  I  read  the  invitation: 
'I  do  wish  your  poor  mother  could  get  away  for 
a  little  rest  this  summer,  but  I  suppose  that  it's 
quite  out  of  the  question.'  Of  course  mother 
would  think  it  was  wholly  out  of  the  question. 
She  hasn't  had  a  vacation  in  ten  years,  to  my 
certain  knowledge,  and  sometimes  I  look  at  her 
in  perfect  wonder  when  she  goes  on  so  patiently, 
as  if  she  never  cared  for  anything  better  than 
looking  after  the  house,  taking  care  of  us,  and 
walking  after  Kitty,  who  is  the  most  stupid  and 
vexatious  girl  that  ever  lived.  It's  one  of  the 


156  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

penalties  of  being  poor  and  having  a  large 
family  that  you  can't  have  decently  trained 
help.  It's  my  cross  that  either  some  one  of  the 
family  has  to  keep  jumping  up  from  the  table 
to  bring  forgotten  articles,  or  else  Kitty  will 
appear  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  a  smudge  of 
soot  on  her  nose,  and  a  general  air  of  preoccupa- 
tion and  soap-suds  about  her." 

"Poor  Louise!"  said  Christie,  laughing  as 
Louise  wrought  herself  up  to  this  climax  in 
mock  despair. 

"Now,  if  I  wanted  to,  which  I  pause  here 
to  say  I  emphatically  dorit"  Louise  continued, 
"I  could  take  charge  of  the  house,  and  make 
mother  go  to  Aunt  Belle's  for  a  couple  of  weeks 
at  least  for  a  rest;  and  I  know  she'd  enjoy  it 
immensely,  and  so  would  Aunt  Belle;  but  I  can't 
make  up  my  mind  to  undertake  such  a  dreadful 
responsibility,  and  in  this  hot  weather  too.  Of 
course  I  know  it's  just  as  hot  for  mother  as  it 
is  for  me;  but  when  people  are  always  patient 
and  cheerful,  and  never  think  of  mentioning  that 
they  have  any  feelings  except  those  of  gratitude 
that  they  are  permitted  to  wear  themselves  out 
for  their  numerous  family,  one  is  apt  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  they  don't  particularly  mind 
things  which  are  uncomfortable.  Of  course  it's 
a  shame,  and  if  I  had  a  scrap  of  decent  daugh- 


REST.  157 

terly  affection  I'd  bundle  mother  off  before  she 
had  time  to  realize  what  was  going  on.  I  do 
love  her  best  of  any  one  in  the  world,  but  my 
selfishness  prevents  me  from  showing  it,  you  see. 
Do  you  suppose  it's  my  'nexte  thynge'  to  do 
this,  Christie  Gilbert?" 

"I  don't  want  to  give  you  disagreeable  ad- 
vice," said  Christie,  "but — " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  knew  you'd  think  I  ought  to," 
interrupted  Louise  in  despair.  "Disagreeable 
things  are  always  the  things  that  ought  to  be 
done.  I  suppose  I'd  never  do  anything  that 
I  wanted  to  or  that  was  pleasant,  if  I  did  as  I 
ought.  I  hate  that  word  ought.  Well,  now  that 
I  am  all  upset  over  it,  and  have  at  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  the  profound  conviction  that  I  shall 
be  a  selfish  pig  if  I  go  myself,  and  let  poor 
mother  stay  at  home  and  have  all  the  hard  times 
without  even  the  little  help  I  give  her,  I  sup- 
pose I  may  as  well  make  up  my  mind  to  do  as  I 
ought;  but  I  don't  feel  any  nice  little  glow  of 
self-approval  over  it.  I  just  feel  as  if  it  was  a 
part  of  my  usual  selfishness.  I  don't  want  to 
go,  because  my  conscience  will  bother  me  all  the 
time  if  I  do,  and  so  I  do  the  least  disagreeable 
thing  and  stay  at  home." 

"I  wont  let  you  abuse  yourself  that  way," 
Christie  interposed.  "It  will  be  lovely  and  gen- 


158  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT   THINGS. 

erous  in  you  to  stay  at  home;  and  I  do  think 
that,  after  the  first  disappointment  is  over,  you 
will  be  happy  in  thinking  that  your  mother  is 
having  a  rest  and  change.  When  you  see  how 
happy  it  will  make  her  just  to  think  of  going, 
you  will  feel  repaid  right  away." 

"Well,  I  will  try  and  work  myself  up  into 
such  an  enthusiastic  state  on  my  way  home  that 
she  will  think  the  greatest  pleasure  of  my  life 
will  be  in  getting  rid  of  her  for  a  couple  of 
weeks,"  said  Louise,  rising  to  go  reluctantly,  for 
she  loved  to  linger  in  Christie's  blue  nest  of  a 
room,  where  everything  was  so  quiet  and  cool 
and  meddlesome  little  fingers  never  left  their 
traces. 

"Christie,  I  wish  I  was  you,"  she  said  im- 
pulsively, putting  her  arms  around  her  friend. 
"  It  always  seems  so  easy  for  you  to  do  just  right, 
and  you  are  in  earnest  with  your  religion  with- 
out being  priggy  and  disagreeable.  I  always 
feel  as  if  I  was  in  a  clearer  atmosphere  when 
I'm  with  you,  and  you  make  me  disgusted  with 
my  own  selfish  ways.  Good-by,  dear.  If  mother 
goes,  you  must  come  and  comfort  me  some- 
times." 

"We'll  all  come  and  help  you,"  Christie 
returned,  as  she  went  down  to  the  gate  with 
her  friend. 


REST.  159 

"It  will  be  cooperative  housekeeping  in  good 
earnest  then,"  laughed  Louise.  "  Well,  I  '11  be- 
gin at  once  to  get  intensely  enthusiastic,  if  the 
thermometer  will  permit  me,  and  I'll  convince 
mother  that  go  she  must.  If  I  don't  have 
the  approval  of  my  conscience  afterward,  I  shall 
lay  it  up  against  you,  Christie,  for  giving  me 
bad  advice,  instead  of  encouraging  me  to  do  my 
own  way  and  have  a  good  time." 

"  You  mustn't  give  me  the  credit  of  your  de- 
cision," Christie  rejoined.  "You  decided  your- 
self, and  deserve  every  bit  of  the  praise.  I  am 
not  afraid  that  you  will  regret  it.  Good-by." 

"Good-by,"  Louise  answered,  and  putting 
up  her  parasol  she  started  homeward,  trying  to 
think  only  of  the  pleasure  which  the  patient, 
tired  mother  would  feel  at  the  prospect  of  a 
holiday. 


160  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ACHSAH. 

CHRISTIE  heard  frequently  from  Achsah  dur- 
ing the  weeks  that  followed  Commencement 
night,  happy  letters  full  of  the  pleasant  times 
she  was  having,  of  the  satisfaction  of  Mrs.  Eshle- 
man  with  her  young  teacher,  and  of  the  affec- 
tion existing  between  her  and  her  little  charge. 
The  last  of  these  letters  had  brought  a  little 
shadow  to  Christie's  face,  and  Saturday  after- 
noon she  read  it  over  again,  with  a  vague  im- 
pulse beginning  to  take  shape  in  her  mind. 
There  had  been  a  little  of  the  old-time  defiance 
in  the  spirit  of  this  letter;  Achsah  had  written 
bitterly  of  the  trials  that  had  been  sent  to  her, 
and  spoken  as  if  her  present  happiness  was  the 
result  of  her  own  energy  and  ambition  and 
Christie's  timely  assistance.  There  was  no  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  love  which  had  guided 
her  steps  even  when  she  thought  herself  most 
alone,  and  which  had  led  her  into  pleasant 
paths. 

"I  feel  as  if  my  life  was  in  my  own  hands 
now,"  she  wrote,  "and  I  can  make  of  it  what  I 


ACHSAH.  l6l 

will  in  spite  of  circumstances.  My  ambition  to 
make  a  success  of  my  life  is  the  strongest  part  of 
me,  and  I  am  determined  that  I  will.  I  begin  to 
feel  that  I  have  capabilities,  and  that  if  I  work 
hard,  I  may. have  great  possibilities  before  me; 
and  I  hope  that  some  day,  Christie  dear,  you 
may  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  friend  who 
was  so  utterly  discouraged  and  desolate  when 
you  came  to  her  with  your  friendship." 

Christie  realized  sadly  that  Achsah  had  left 
God  out  of  account,  and  was  glorying  in  the  fact 
that  she  had  determined  to  live  her  life  without 
him. 

Two  short  poems,  cut  from  magazines  and 
signed  A.  H.  H.,  were  inclosed  in  the  letter,  and 
as  Christie  read  them  she  wondered  that  her 
schoolmates  had  never  realized  until  Commence- 
ment night  how  gifted  Achsah  was. 

"If  her  talents  were  only  consecrated,  there 
would  be  so  much  that  she  might  do,"  she 
thought  wistfully.  "I  wish  I  could  share  my 
feelings  with  her.  I  don't  think  she  believes 
people  are  ever  in  earnest  in  what  they  profess; 
and  she  sees  all  the  failur.es  and  inconsistencies 
of  professing  Christians,  without  knowing  any- 
thing about  the  times  when  they  conquer  them- 
selves. I  suppose  some  of  my  sins  are  helping 
her  to  keep  away  from  Christ.  I  wish  I  could 

Christie's  Next  Thlng«.  I  I 


162  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

tell  her  how  sorry  I  am,  and  how  much  I  wish 
that  she  would  become  a  Christian." 

It  was  very  hard  for  Christie  to  speak  even  to 
those  whom  she  loved  best,  and  who  she  knew 
were  in  sympathy  with  her,  about  religious  mat- 
ters, and  although  she  was  not  afraid  of  angering 
Achsah,  as  she  knew  others  had  done  by  speak- 
ing to  her  of  her  soul,  yet  she  shrank  from  it  with 
all  a  girl's  shyness.  Two  or  three  times  she  had 
heard  Achsah  speak  with  indignation  of  the 
"meddlesome  interference,"  as  she  termed  it,  of 
those  who  had  spoken  to  her  about  uniting  with 
the  church  at  a  time  when  many  of  her  class- 
mates were  publicly  professing  Christ.  "They 
wouldn't  lift  their  little  finger  to  do  anything  for 
me,  and  yet  they  presume  to  meddle  with  my 
personal  affairs,"  she  had  said  hotly. 

Christie  felt  sure  that  if  she  could  bring  her- 
self to  write  to  Achsah  of  the  desire  with  which 
her  heart  was  overflowing  to-day,  she  would  not 
look  upon  it  as  interference,  for  she  knew  Chris- 
tie was  sincerely  her  friend,  and  would  do,  as  she 
had  already  done,  a  great  deal  for  her  happiness ; 
but  would  it  do  any  good? 

It  would  cost  a  great  effort  on  her  part,  but 
she  was  quite  willing  to  make  it,  if  only  she 
could  feel  sure  that  it  would  result  in  the  good 
she  wanted  to  accomplish.  Would  it  draw  Ach- 


ACHSAH.  163 

sah  any  nearer  to  the  Saviour  she  herself  loved 
so  dearly,  if  she  should  open  to  her  the  inner 
chamber  of  her  heart? 

She  pondered  the  question  long  and  earnest- 
ly. She  felt  a  strange  yearning,  which  she  dared 
.not  leave  unheeded,  to  plead  with  her  friend  and 
urge  her  to  go  to  Jesus  for  that  peace  and  joy 
which  no  gratification  of  ambition  could  bring 
to  her  proud,  restless  spirit ;  and  yet  she  was  so 
fearful  of  failure  that  she  dreaded  to  make  the 
attempt.  Was  this  another  "nexte  thynge," 
one  of  the  little  duties  that  God  had  placed  in 
her  path? 

"Moment  by  moment, 

Let  down  from  heaven, 
Time,  opportunity, 

Guidance,  are  given." 

Perhaps  this  was  just  the  time  at  which  she 
might  influence  Achsah,  and  this  strong  desire 
was  to  be  her  guidance  in  the  path  of  duty. 

She  opened  her  secretary  and  drew  out  paper, 
pen,  and  ink,  then  she  sat  for  a  time  lost  in 
thought.  How  could  she  word  her  note  so  that 
Achsah  would  understand  the  humility  and  love 
with  which  she  wrote  it,  not  as  one  who  felt 
herself  better  than  another,  but  just  as  a  very 
human,  erring  girl,  who  wanted  her  friend  to 
share  the  strength  and  help  whith  she  had  found 
for  herself? 


164  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT  THINGS. 

A  swift  prayer  for  help  and  guidance  went  up 
from  the  depths  of  her  heart,  and  then  she  took 
up  her  pen  and  wrote,  just  as  she  would  have 
spoken,  timidly  and  lovingly.  Achsah's  eyes 
could  not  rest  upon  the  lines  without  knowing 
what  an  effort  they  had  cost,  and  yet  surely  the 
love  that  prompted  the  words  would  win  them 
some  consideration. 

It  was  an  earnest  appeal,  but  as  Christie  read 
it  over  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment. How  little  she  had  said  after  all,  and 
how  empty  her  words  were  !  Surely  it  would  be 
worse  than  useless  to  send  the  letter,  unless  God's 
blessing  should  go  with  it  and  he  should  use 
the  feeble  words  to  his  glory. 

Throwing  herself  upon  her  knees  by  her  bed- 
side, she  spread  the  letter  out  before  the  I<prd, 
like  Hezekiah  of  old,  and  told  him  the  burden 
that  rested  upon  her  heart.  Never  since  the  day 
when  she  had  been  so  sorely  oppressed  with  her 
own  burden  of  guilt  and  her  sense  of  estrange- 
ment from  the  Saviour  had  she  prayed  so  earnest- 
ly and  with  so  strong  a  sense  of  her  own  power- 
lessness.  She  felt  comforted  when  she  arose  from 
her  knees,  for  she  had  carried  her  burden  to  One 
who  was  all-powerful,  and  she  knew  that  if  it  was 
his  will  he  could  use  her  words  to  touch  Achsah's 
heart.  So  the  letter  went  on  its  way,  sped  with 


ACHSAH.  165 

prayer,  and  Christie  trusted  the  results  with  the 
Lord. 

The  letter  found  Achsah  in  an  unusually  dis- 
contented mood.  She  was  sitting  alone  in  her 
comfortable  room  at  the  large  hotel  where  they 
were  spending  a  few  days,  with  her  portfolio 
upon  her  knee.  Usually  she  was  very  happy 
and  contented,  and  had  no  desire  to  change  any- 
thing in  her  present  lot;  but  this  afternoon  a  per- 
verse spirit  of  discontent  had  possessed  her,  and 
there  was  the  old-time  look  of  impatient  fretful- 
ness  upon  her  face. 

Through  Mrs.  Eshleman's  kindness  she  had 
several  hours  to  herself  every  day,  and  so  she 
was  able  to  study  systematically,  much  to  her 
pleasure.  That  lady  was  very  much  interested 
in  the  young  girl,  and  was  anxious  that  she 
should  have  every  opportunity  to  develop  her 
talents  and  make  the  best  of  herself. 

Many  a  one  might  have  seen  much  to  envy  in 
Achsah's  lot.  Gentle  little  Ruth  was  such  a 
winning  child  that  no  one  could  help  loving  her, 
and  she  was  an  intelligent  pupil,  whom  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  instruct ;  Mrs.  Eshleman  was  always 
kind  and  courteous,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  giving 
Achsah  all  the  pleasure  that  she  could  ;  and  this 
delightful  flitting  from  place  to  place  had  all  the 
charm  of  novelty  to  the  young  girl,  whose  life 


1 66  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

heretofore  had  been  almost  dreary  in  its  monot- 
ony. 

An  ambition  to  make  herself  a  name  as  a 
writer  had  seized  her,  and  she  expressed  her  rest- 
less cravings  and  unattained  ideals  in  verse, 
which,  if  it  was  oftentimes  crude,  still  showed 
marks  of  such  thought  and  feeling  that  she  had 
had  great  reason  for  encouragement  in  its  accept- 
ance by  periodicals  which  did  not  often  open 
their  pages  to  unknown  writers.  The  untried 
path  which  stretched  before  her  looked  as  if  it 
might  be  flower-strewn  and  pleasant  to  tread,  and 
yet  notwithstanding  all  her  grounds  for  hope- 
fulness she  felt  unusually  depressed. 

When  Christie's  letter  was  brought  up  to  her 
she  took  it  eagerly,  pleased  to  recognize  the  fa- 
miliar writing  upon  the  envelope,  and  hoping 
that  its  contents  would  drive  away  the  fit  of 
blues. 

A  look  of  surprise  crossed  her  face  as  her 
glance  travelled  swiftly  over  the  lines,  and  when 
she  had  finished  it 'her  eyes  were  misty  with  tears 
which  the  loving  words  had  called  forth.  The 
subject  of  religion  had  never  been  mentioned  to 
her  before  without  arousing  her  resentment  and 
annoyance.  *  She  was  too  reserved  to  imagine  be- 
ing able  to  speak  of  anything  which  she  should 
hold  sacred  if  it  was  her  possession,  and  when 


ACHSAH.  167 

people  who  had  never  manifested  any  other  in- 
terest in  her  urged  her  to  unite  with  the  church, 
she  did  not  believe  either  in  the  sincerity  of  their 
own  professions  or  in  their  expressions  of  interest 
in  her. 

Christie  had  been  too  true  a  friend  for  her  to 
doubt  the  reality  of  her  desire  that  she  should  be- 
come a  Christian,  and  she  could  read  between  the 
lines  the  effort  the  words  had  cost.  She  knew, 
too,  that  Christie  was  very  sincere  and  earnest  in 
her  Christian  life,  and  that  her  first  aim  was  to 
do  right.  After  she  had  united  with  the  church 
Achsah  had  watched  her  closely,  as  she  had  the 
others,  but  even  Christie's  occasional  failures  had 
not  shaken  her  belief  in  her  earnestness  of  pur- 
pose, and  since  she  had  learned  to  know  her  well 
she  had  noted  many  a  little  sacrifice  of  self,  many 
a  little  victory  won  "in  His  name,"  which  had 
had  its  influence  upon  her  for  good.  A  great  de- 
sire to  know  something  of  this  peace  of  which 
Christie  wrote  filled  her  heart.  It  was  so  dis- 
turbed with  restless  longings  and  ambitions  that 
rest  seemed  a  great  and  desirable  good. 

"Dear  Christie,"  she  murmured  softly.  "It 
is  so  easy  for  her  to  be  everything  that  is  noble 
and  good.  She  has  not  my  pride  and  perversity 
to  fight  against,  and  she  is  not  feverish  with  am- 
bition as  I  am.  I  wish  I  could  be  just  like  her, 


168  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

instead  of  being  my  tiresome  self.  I  would  like 
to  be  a  Christian  if  only  to  please  her,  but  how 
can  I  believe  what  I  don't  believe?  If  I  had  not 
seen  so  much  empty  profession  I  might  think  that 
religion  was  something  real  and  powerful  and  be 
tempted  to  believe  in  it." 

It  was  the  same  argument  with  which  she  had 
satisfied  herself  many  times  before,  but  this  after- 
noon it  was  not  as  convincing  as  usual.  Her 
reason  told  her  that  others'  failures  would  not 
serve  as  an  excuse  for  her  neglect;  and,  besides, 
she  could  not  deny  that  the  motive  power  which 
led  her  father  and  mother  to  leave  their  congenial 
home  in  the  East  to  seek  the  desolate  frontier  was 
a  real  and  powerful  one.  She  could  not  doubt 
their  sincerity,  and  child  though  she  had  been 
when  they  were  taken  away  from  her,  she  could 
remember  many  an  earnest  prayer  that  had  been 
uttered  at  her  bedside  by  her  mother's  lips,  and 
her  father's  good-night  benedictions. 

Those  prayers  and  words  of  blessing  had  lost 
their  power  over  her  during  the  last  troubled 
years  of  her  life,  but  this  afternoon  they  came 
back  to  her  and  wound  themselves  about  her  like 
strong  cords. 

The  Spirit  was  striving  with  that  proud  and 
wilful  heart,  and  the  constraining  love  of  Christ 
broke  down  all  the  barriers  that  she  would  fain 


ACHSAH.  169 

have  erected.  She  folded  Christie's  letter  up  and 
returned  it  to  the  envelope  with  loving  ringers, 
and  tried  to  banish  the  subject  from  her  mind, 
but  it  lingered  persistently.  Little  Ruth  came 
in  search  of  her,  and  she  drew  the  child  to  her 
side  and  spent  the  hour  until  supper-time  in  weav- 
ing quaint  fairy  stories  for  her,  but  underneath 
ran  the  chain  of  thought  from  which  she  could 
not  free  herself. 

After  supper  she  enjoyed  a  drive  with  Mrs. 
Eshleman,  and  did  her  best  to  be  a  bright,  enter- 
taining companion  ;  but  she  could  not  entirely 
throw  aside  her  preoccupation,  and  it  was  a  relief 
when  the  time  came  for  her  to  go  to  the  solitude 
of  her  own  room. 

She  dimly  realized  that  a  crisis  had  come  in 
her  life,  that  she  was  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
vital  question,  which  could  not  be  thrust  aside 
unanswered  ;  and  though  she  shank  from  a  de- 
cision, she  knew  that  she  could  not  avoid  it. 

"Jesus  of  Nazareth,  what  have  I  to  do  with 
thee?" 

She  dared  not  answer,  "Nothing;"  it  was 
too  terrible  a  decision  ;  and  yet  she  was  not  will- 
ing to  lay  aside  her  pride  and  yield  to  the  meek 
and  lowly  One. 

The  hours  crept  slowly  away  as  she  sat  in  the 
quiet  moonlight  in  her  room.  Each  moment  her 


170  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

sense  of  unrest  grew  harder  to  bear,  and  she 
longed  more  and  more  for  the  great  peace  of 
which  Christie  had  told  her ;  and  yet,  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  when  she  had  but  to  ask  and  receive, 
she  crept  away  to  bed  at  last  with  her  burden,  and 
tossed  restlessly  through  the  long  hours  of  the 
night  without  yielding  to  the  impulse  that  bade 
her  carry  it  to  her  Saviour's  feet. 

Achsah  arose  in  the  morning  weary  and  unre- 
freshed  in  body  and  mind,  and  was  glad  that  she 
could  plead  a  headache  to  Mrs.  Eshleman  as  an 
excuse  for  her  weariness  and  languor.  She  was 
impatient  with  herself  because  she  could  not  force 
herself  to  be  interested  in  her  usual  pursuits,  and 
was  half  angry  with  Christie  for  writing  the 
letter  which  had  wrought  such  havoc  with  her 
peace.  When  she  went  to  her  room  in  the  after- 
noon she  was  too  restless  to  write  or  even  to  take 
the  rest  that  she  needed  after  her  vigil  of  the  night 
before,  so  putting  on  her  hat  she  determined  to 
walk  off  her  restlessness.  She  wandered  aimless- 
ly through  the  streets  of  the  pretty  village  until 
she  came  to  a  picturesque  little  stone  chapel,  over- 
grown with  vines  which  even  climbed  aspiringly 
up  the  slender  spire  and  wreathed  themselves 
about  the  cross  which  surmounted  it. 

The  door  was  open,  and  the  low  notes  of  an 
organ  invited  Achsah  to  leave  the  outdoor  sun- 


ACHSAH.  171 

shine  aud  seek  a  rest  in  the  cool,  dark  interior  of 
the  edifice.  She  wondered  if  a  service  was  being 
held,  but  when  she  stepped  inside  the  door  she 
found  that  the  only  other  occupants  of  the  church 
were  in  the  organ  loft. 

The  young  girl  who  sat  before  the  organ  be- 
gan a  low  plaintive  prelude,  and  Achsah  sank 
into  an  unobserved  corner  to  listen  to  the  music. 

"Come  unto  Me,"  began  a  clear  voice,  liquid 
with  sweetness,  and  music-loving  Achsah  held 
her  breath  to  listen,  that  she  might  not  lose  a 
syllable.  "  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take 
my  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of  Me,  for  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest 
unto  your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my 
burden  is  light." 

Over  and  over  again  the  singer  repeated  the 
s\veet  words,  and  the  melody  made  them  stir  the 
depths  of  Achsah's  heart.  She  knelt  down  in 
the  dark  pew  and  bowed  her  head  upon  the  cush- 
ion, too  weary  and  heavy  laden  to  carry  her 
burden  any-  longer.  She  had  left  her  room  to 
escape  the  Spirit's  pleading,  and  then  had  wan- 
dered unconsciously  into  this  place,  where  the 
Saviour's  gentle  invitation  came  to  her  more 
strongly  than  ever. 

"Come  unto  Me  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


172  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

The  sweet  voice  repeated  the  words  again,  lin- 
gering tenderly  upon  them,  and  Achsah  gave  up 
her  struggle. 

"I  come  to  Thee,"  she  whispered.  "With 
all  my  pride  and  sinfulness,  just  as  I  am,  without 
one  plea  except  my  great  need.  Wilt  Thou  ac- 
cept me  and  forgive  me,  for  Jesus'  sake?" 

With  the  consciousness  of  full  surrender  came 
the  answer  to  her  prayer,  and  over  her  troubled 
heart  stole  a  peace  which  quieted  every  unrest. 

Long  she  knelt  there,  dreading  to  move  lest 
she'  should  lose  some  of  her  new-found  blessed- 
ness ;  but  at  last  a  stir  in  the  organ-loft  warned 
her  that  the  choir  were  about  to  take  their  de- 
parture, so  she  arose  quietly  and  went  out  again 
into  the  afternoon  sunlight,  leaving  behind  her 
for  ever  the  burden  of  sin  which  she  had  carried 
into  the  little  church. 

If  the  mother  could  have  known  that  the 
prayers  which  she  had  uttered  for  Achsah  in 
those  first  years  of  unconscious  childhood  had 
been  at  last  fulfilled  in  God's  own  way  and  in  his 
own  time,  surely  a  new  note  of  thanksgiving 
would  have  been  added  to  the  song  of  the  re- 
deemed when  the  angels  shouted  for  joy  over 
another  wanderer  returned  to  the  Father's  house. 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  173 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN    UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY. 

IT  was  an  oppressively  hot  Sunday  in  August. 
The  sea  lay  as  calm  and  motionless  as  if  it  were 
molten  glass  beneath  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun, 
and  not  a  breath  was  borne  across  its  surface. 

Although  Mrs.  Eshleman's  rooms  at  the  hotel 
were  the  largest  and  airiest  in  the  building,  yet 
they  were  almost  unendurable  when  the  afternoon 
sun  began  to  creep  in  beneath  the  awnings. 

Little  Ruth  drooped  with  the  heat,  and  though 
Achsah  fanned  her  and  did  her  best  to  make  her 
forget  her  weariness,  yet  she  seemed  to  be  as  ex- 
hausted as  a  wilted  blossom. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  down  to  the  beach, 
dear?"  Achsah  asked  at  last,  and  the  languid 
eyes  brightened  at  the  proposal. 

"It  would  be  very  hot  going  down  there,  but 
I  am  sure  it  would  be  cool  when  we  once  reached 
the  rocks.  Yes,  I  should  like  to  go." 

As  they  started  down  towards  the  beach  a 
faint  breath  now  and  then  crept  up  from  the 
ocean,  stirring  the  idly  pendulous  leaves,  then 
ceasing,  as  if  exhausted  with  its  own  effort.  The 


i;4  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

rocks  loomed  up  grandly  against  the  cloudless 
blue  of  the  summer  sky.  The  sun  blazed  down 
as  furiously  as  if  it  was  matching  its  strength 
against  the  strength  of  those  mighty  cliffs ;  but 
tenderly  helping  little  Ruth  along,  Achsah  soon 
reached  a  place  of  shelter  with  her  little  charge, 
where  the  shadow  of  the  rock,  as  they  nestled  in 
a  great  fissure,  protected  them  from  the  heat  of 
the  sun. 

"This  is  nice,  isn't  it?"  said  Ruth,  with  a 
little  sigh  of  relief,  as  she  nestled  down  beside 
Achsah  and  put  her  head  against  her  friend's 
shoulder.  "  Now  wont  you  tell  me  a  story,  Miss 
Achsah?" 

So  Achsah  began  to  tell  the  child  the  sweet 
story  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  which  she  had  her- 
self been  reading  that  morning,  all  unconscious 
that  she  had  another  auditor. 

Just  around  a  curve  in  the  cliff,  so  near  that 
he  could  hear  every  word  distinctly,  though  he 
could  not  see  the  speaker,  lay  a  man  in  the  garb 
of  a  fisherman,  with  a  low-browed,  sullen  face. 
An  ugly  bruise  on  his  forehead,  and  his  flushed 
and  swollen  features,  showed  that  he  was  recov- 
ering from  the  effects  of  a  dissipated  brawl.  He 
had  wandered  down  to  the  cliffs  sore  in  body  and 
spirit,  and  almost  determined  to  end  his  wretched 
life.  He  was  watching  the  incoming  tide,  and 


Christie's  Next  Things.     Pa 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS    MINISTRY.  1/5 

wondering  whether  he  would  summon  up  resolu- 
tion enough  to  let  his  body  drift  out  to  sea  when 
the  waters  should  recede  at  the  ebb  tide. 

He  heard  the  voices  at  first  without  heeding 
the  words,  but  as  Achsah  began  her  story  his  at- 
tention was  riveted  in  spite  of  himself.  He  had 
heard  that  story  before,  and  he  groaned  in  spirit 
as  he  remembered  how  far  away  those  days  of 
innocent  childhood  were,  when  a  mother's  lips 
had  fashioned  the  words  that  a  strange  voice  was 
uttering  now.  He  could  almost  catch  the  scent 
of  the  roses  that  had  climbed  over  the  little  old- 
fashioned  house,  and  he  could  recall  the  touch  of 
his  mother's  gentle  hand  upon  his  head  as  he  sat 
beside  her  when  the  children  were  gathered  to- 
gether for  their  afternoon  with  the  Bible. 

"Poor  mother!"  he  thought  remorsefully. 
"  I  wonder  how  she  is?  I  wonder  if  she  has  for- 
gotten all  about  me?  I  was  always  a  bad  one, 
and  I  should  think  she  would  have  been  glad 
enough  when  I  took  myself  off  and  let  the  rest 
have  some  peace.  I  'd  like  to  see  her  again,  and 
father,  and  Abigail  too  ;  but  it's  a  sorry  welcome 
I  would  get  if  they  could  see  me  now." 

"But  I  should  think  he  would  have  been  afraid 

'to  go  home  after  he  had  been  so  wicked,"  said  the 

childish    voice.      "Suppose  his  father  wouldn't 

forgive  him,  and  would  send  him  away  after  all?" 


i/6  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"But  he  trusted  in  his  father's  love,  you  see," 
Achsah  said.  "He  knew  his  father  well  enough 
to  believe  that  if  he  went  to  him  and  told  him 
how  sorry  he  was,  he  would  forgive  him.  He 
did  not  expect  to  be  his  son  again;  he  would 
have  been  contented  to  be  one  of  the  hired  ser- 
vants, if  only  he  might  be  at  home;  so  he  said, 
'  I  will  arise  and  go  unto  my  father,  and  will  say 
unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  before  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son ;  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  ser- 
vants.'" 

"But  his  father  did  forgive  him?"  Ruth 
asked. 

"Yes,  he  was  watching  and  waiting  for  him 
to  come  home,  for  it  says,  '  When  he  was  yet  a 
great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him  and  had  com- 
passion, and  ran  and  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed 
him'!" 

"How  he  must  have  loved  his  father  after 
that!"  Ruth  said.  "  I  suppose  he  was  sorry  then 
that  he  had  not  gone  home  sooner." 

The  curly  head  slipped  down  soon  upon  Ach- 
sah's  knee,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  music  of  the 
surf  had  lulled  the  child  into  a  gentle  slumber. 

Achsah  sat  there  with  her  hand  upon  the 
ruffled  curls,  drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene, 
content  to  be  alone  with  her  thoughts.  Far,  far 


AX    UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  177 

away  as  the  eye  could  reach,  in  seeming  infini- 
tude stretched  the  sea,  as  blue  as  the  sky  that 
bent  over  it,  calm  and  unruffled  until  it  reached 
the  rocky  New  England  coast,  where  it  gathered 
itself  up  into  great  rollers  and  came  crashing 
against  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  sending  up  a  silvery 
mist  of  spray. 

"As  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary 
land."  The  words  whispered  themselves  With 
new  beauty  and  meaning  to  Achsah,  and  nest- 
ling in  this  quiet  cranny  of  the  rock,  enjoying 
the  cool  refuge  from  the  heat  of  the  sun,  she 
realized  how  perfectly  the  simile  described  the 
overshadowing  love  of  God. 

Other  sweet  Bible  words  came  to  her  mind. 
The  rock  too  was  a  refuge.  The  angry  waters 
dashed  themselves  furiously  against  it,  only  to 
be  hurled  back  again  and  shivered  into  foam 
and  spray;  but,  high  up  in  a  cleft  of  the  great 
rock,  one  could  look  fearlessly  down  upon  the 
boiling,  tumultuous  waves  and  feel  assured  that 
they  could  not  shake  that  stronghold  with  their 
utmost  fury. 

The  sea  murmured  another  message  as  Ach- 
sah's  eyes  rested  upon  its  pathless  waters  with 
their  unfathomable  depths:  "Thou  wilt  cast  all 
their  sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea."  Far  below 
the  surface  over  which  white-winged  ships  speed 

Christie's  X?xt  Things.  T  3 


i/8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

their  way,  down  in  the  sunless  depths  which  the 
eyes  of  man  have  never  seen,  where  lies  the 
wreck  of  many  a  goodly  ship,  into  such  depths 
our  sins  are  cast.  No  summer  drought  can  ex- 
pose them  to  view,  but  in  the  depths  of  the 
changeless  sea  they  will  ever  be  buried. 

Beautiful  promise  of  comfort!  We  can  bring 
our  burden  of  sin  to  the  Saviour  and  claim  his 
promise  that  it  shall  be  cast  into  the  depths  of 
the  sea — the  sea  of  God's  love,  whose  depths 
have  ne"ver  been  fathomed,  from  whence  it  will 
not  rise  to  condemn  us,  even  in  the  great  day 
when  the  sea  shall  give  up  her  dead. 

The  calrfi,  opalescent  surface,  stretching  away 
until  it  met  the  horizon,  with  its  foam  edges  of 
glistening  silver  and  feathery  spray,  brought  a 
thought  of  the  time  when  the  first  heaven  and 
the  first  earth  should  pass  away,  and  there  should 
be  no  more  sea,  but  instead  of  this  waste  of 
waters,  "a  sea  of  glass  like  unto  crystal"  before 
the  throne  of  God  ;  instead  of  the  roar  of  the 
breakers,  the  anthem  of  praise  that  shall  cease 
not,  night  nor  day,  "Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God 
Almighty,  which  was  and  is  and  is  to  come," 
and  the  chorus  of  those  "who  have  come  out 
of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes 
and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb:" 
"Blessing  and  glory  and  wisdom  and  thanksgiv- 


AN    UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  179 

ing  and  honor  and  power  and  might  be  unto  our 
God  for  ever  and  ever. ' ' 

Achsah  would  have  been  amazed  if  she  could 
have  known  how  profoundly  her  simple  story 
had  stirred  the  depths  of  her  unseen  hearer's 
heart  The  dear  old  mother's  gentle  voice  was 
speaking  to  him  again  as  it  had  done  in  child- 
hood, and  he  felt  strange  longings  to  literally 
arise  and  go  to  his  father  and  his  home  again. 
He  could  not  doubt  but  that  a  welcome  would 
be  waiting  for  him  as  it  had  for  the  prodigal  in 
the  parable.  A  dull  yearning  for  a  higher  for- 
giveness stirred  his  heart,  but  he  thought  he 
would  be  content  if  he  could  only  be  taken  back 
into  the  home  of  his  boyhood  again.  He  arose 
at  last  and  crept  quietly  away,  with  no  more 
thought  of  ending  the  life  that  had  been  such  a 
miserable  failure  so  far,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that 
some  of  his  childhood's  innocence  must  come 
back  to  him  with  a  return  to  his  childhood's 
home. 

There  were  others,  too,  whom  he  had  sorely 
wronged  besides  his  father  and  mother.  He  had 
persuaded  a  young  girl  to  leave  her  home  and 
link  her  life  to  his,  and  then  when  his  short- 
lived affection  for  her  had  waned,  he  had  first 
quarrelled  with  her  and  made  her  life  unbear- 
able with  his  violent  temper,  then  deserted  her 


ISO  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT  THINGS. 

when  she  was  ill  and  helpless.  It  had  been 
seven  years  since  he  had  left  his  wife  and  child, 
and  he  did  not  know  even  whether  they  were 
living. 

Perhaps,  if  he  found  a  welcome  waiting  for 
him  at  home,  he  could  trust  that  a  little  of  his 
wife's  old  love  for  him  might  still  be  remaining, 
and  he  would  search  for  her  and  for  his  child. 
Visions  of  what  the  future  might  yet  hold  for 
him  rose  up  before  him,  and  made  him  deter- 
mine to  leave  his  evil  life  behind  him  when 
he  turned  his  steps  homeward. 

Miss  Abigail,  nightly  putting  a  light  in  the 
window  as  she  had  for  years,  and  fervently  offer- 
ing her  usual  petition  for  the  wanderer's  return, 
did  not  dream  of  the  near  fulfilment  of  her 
prayer  as  she  patiently  watched  and  waited;  nor 
did  Christie  dream  of  the  chain  of  links  by  which 
her  influence  had  at  last  reached  the  long-lost 
brother,  through  Achsah's  unconscious  ministry. 

She  did  not  realize  how  strong  an  influence 
for  good  she  exerted  as  she  went  on  in  her  quiet 
way,  with  no  great  talents  or  brilliant  gifts  to 
exercise;  only  a  faithful  performance  of  the  little 
commonplace  duties  that  came  to  her  hour  by 
hour  as  "ye  nexte  thynge."  She  had  given  up 
planning  for  herself,  and  was  content  to  follow 
her  Father's  guidance. 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  iSl 

Louise  Rushton  had  determined  to  let  herself 
be  guided  in  her  acceptance  of  her  aunt's  invita- 
tion by  Christie's  reasons  for  refusing  to  enjoy 
her  long-talked-of  trip,  and  Christie's  unselfish- 
ness had  struck  a  responsive  chord  in  her  some- 
what self-indulgent  nature.  She  had  gone  home 
from  Christie's  that  morning  quite  resolved  that 
her  mother  should  enjoy  the  trip  in  her  place, 
but  at  every  step  she  shrank  more  and  more  from 
taking  upon  her  shoulders  the  petty  cares  which 
she  so  cordially  detested. 

Her  good  resolutions  almost  vanished  when 
she  entered  the  house,  which  was  so  different 
from  Mrs.  Gilbert's  cool,  quiet  home,  whose  tran- 
quillity and  order  were  never  disturbed  by  mis- 
chievous little  fingers.  The  house  was  hot,  and 
an  unmistakable  odor  of  a  boiled  dinner  per- 
vaded it.  The  two-year-old  baby  was  in  a  fret- 
ful mood,  and  was  sitting  on  the  lowest  step  of 
the  stairway,  crying  at  intervals,  and  in  between 
times  decorating  her  face  with  a  piece  of  bread 
and  jelly;  and  just  vanishing  up  the  back  stairs 
Louise  caught  a  glimpse  of  Kitty  retreating  with 
swollen  features  and  a  flannel  bandage  about  her 
face — unmistakable  signs  that  she  was  about  to 
retire  with  a  toothache  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

•'Of  course,"  thought  Louise,  with  a  discon- 
tented frown.  "Kitty  must  always  take  a  busy 


i82  "CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

day  to  have  her  toothaches.  I  wish  she  hadn't 
any  teeth,  for  there 's  always  something  the  mat- 
ter with  them.  I  suppose  I  'd  better  go  and  help 
mother  with  dinner." 

Running  up  to  the  room  which  she  shared 
with  a  younger  sister,  Louise  quickly  exchanged 
her  clean  light  print  dress  for  a  dark  calico 
wrapper,  and  made  her  appearance  in  the 
kitchen  a  few  moments  later. 

"What  can  I  do,  mother?"  she  asked  cheer- 
fully, as  her  mother's  flushed,  tired  face  looked 
up  with  a  smile  of  welcome  from  the  ironing 
table  over  which  she  was  bending.  "  I  just  saw 
Kitty  retiring  from  the  world,  so  I  suppose  there 
is  more  to  do  than  usual.  Those  are  her  favorite 
times." 

"It  does  seem  so,"  admitted  her  mother, 
"but  the  poor  girl  really  is  suffering,  and  she 
did  not  give  up  till  I  sent  her  off  to  ted.  If  you 
will  set  the  table  for  dinner,  Louise  dear,  and 
just  see  what  is  the  matter  with  Dottie,  so  she 
wont  keep  on  fretting  so,  I  can  manage  nicely. 
Dinner  is  almost  ready  now,  and  I  can  finish 
these  collars  and  cuffs  by  the  time  it  is  ready  to 
dish." 

Louise  vanished  into  the  dining-room,  which 
seemed  delightfully  cool  after  the  odorous  heat 
of  the  kitchen,  and  a  moment  later  she  had  Dot- 


AN    UNCONSCIOUS    MINISTRY.  183 

tie  pattering  around  after  her,  her  chubby  face 
dimpled  with  smiles  at  being  allowed  to  help 
sister  set  the  table. 

When  everything  was  in  its  place  Louise 
caught  Dottie  up  and  carried  her  to  her  bed- 
room. 

"I  think  you'd  be  quite  sweet  enough,  pet, 
if  you  hadn't  so  much  jelly  on  your  face,"  she 
said  merrily;  and  Dottie  submitted  cheerfully  to 
the  ablutions  which  were  often  greeted  with 
noisy  remonstrances. 

"Now  you  are  a  dear  clean  little  girl,"  said 
Louise,  kissing  the  rosy  cheeks.  "  But  wouldn't 
you  be  a  handful  to  take  care  of  for  two  whole 
weeks!" 

Dottie  laughed  at  her  face  of  exaggerated  de- 
spair without  at  all  understanding  the  words 
which  accompanied  it,  and  trotted  down  stairs 
after  her  sister,  quite  unconscious  of  the  responsi- 
bility which  Louise  proposed  to  assume. 

"Mother  must  go,"  said  Louise  to  herself 
decidedly.  "She  needs  a  rest  and  change  if 
any  one  ever  did;  but  oh,  how  I  do  hate  to  take 
her  place!" 

She  heard  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  glancing 
through  the  open  door  saw  her  father  hitching 
his  buggy  in  front  of  the  house. 

Louise  went  out  to  meet  him. 


184  CHRISTIE'S   NEXT  THINGS. 

"It's  a  hot  day,  isn't  it,  father!"  she  asked. 
"Dinner  isn't  quite  ready,  so  wont  you  sit  down 
out  here  on  the  porch  a  moment  while  I  talk  to 
you  about  something?  I  want  you  to  help  me 
plot  a  conspiracy  against  mother,"  and  she  drew 
her  aunt's  letter  from  her  pocket  and  placed  it 
in  her  father's  hand.  "You  see  auntie  has  in- 
vited me,  but  she  would  rather  have  mother  if 
she  only  thought  that  it  would  be  possible.  I 
know  mother  will  say  that  of  course  she  can't 
go ;  but  I  want  you  to  persuade  her  that  she 
really  needs  the  rest.  She  looks  all  tired  out, 
and  I  know  it  would  do  her  ever  so  much  good, 
and  I  can  take  care  of  the  house  just  as  well  as 
not,  if  you  wont  be  afraid  to  trust  yourself  in 
my  inexperienced  hands.  We  will  both  insist 
upon  her  going,  and  then  she  will  find  it  quite 
out  of  the  question  to  refuse." 

A  pleased  expression  crossed  the  doctor's 
careworn  face. 

"It  will  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for 
her,"  he  answered.  "We'll  do  our  best  to  get 
along  without  her,  daughter,  and  the  thought  of 
the  good  the  change  will  do  her  will  make  up 
for  our  loneliness.  You  are  a  good  girl  to  think 
of  it." 

"Now  I'll  go  and  help  get  the  dinner  on," 
Louise  said,  pleased  with  her  father's  rarely 


AN    UNCONSCIOUS    MINISTRY.  185 

expressed  approval,  and  she  went  back  into  the 
hot  kitchen,  where  her  mother,  flushed  and  per- 
spiring, was  taking  up  the  dinner. 

When  the  meal  had  been  concluded  and  the 
children  had  gone  back  to  their  play,  Louise 
said, 

"Now,  mother,  father  and  I  have  a  plan  on 
hand  concerning  you.  We  are  going  to  send  you 
down  to  Aunt  Belle's  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and 
you  must  prepare  yourself  to  quietly  submit  to 
being  turned  out  of  your  home,  for  we  are  de- 
termined to  take  no  refusal." 

A  sudden  gleam  of  pleasure  lit  up  the  tired 
face,  but  it  vanished  in  a  moment,  and  Mrs. 
Rushton  said, 

"Why,  Louise,  it  would  be  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. It  is  years  since  I  have  felt  as  if  I  could 
leave  the  house  for  a  couple  of  days  even,  and 
how  could  I  possibly  go  for  two  weeks?" 

"Easily  enough,  mother,"  Louise  answered 
promptly,  "if  you  would  only  trust  to  the 
abilities  of  your  eldest  daughter.  I  am  all 
through  school  now,  and  the  next  branch  of  my 
education  is  to  be  a  thorough  knowledge  of  prac- 
tical housekeeping,  and  I  know  I  can  acquire 
it  better  by  taking  your  place  than  in  any  other 
way.  Indeed  you  must  go,  mother,  and  have 
a  real  good  time  with  Aunt  Belle.  Not  even 


186  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

Dottie  is  to  go  with  you,  so  you  can  be  as  care- 
free and  inerry  as  a  young  girl." 

"Yes,  wife,  I  am  going  to  insist  upon  your 
going,"  the  doctor  added.  ''Louise  will  help 
you  get  started  as  soon  as  possible,  and  you  must 
get  everything  you  need  for  the  trip,"  and  he 
tossed  his  well-worn  wallet  into  her  lap. 

"But,"  began  Mrs.  Rush  ton,  quite  sure  that 
anything  so  delightful  must  be  entirely  out  of  the 
range  of  her  possibilities. 

"There  aren't  any  '  buts  '  about  it,"  insisted 
Louise,  and  she  was  so  earnest  and  determined  in 
her  protestations  of  how  easily  she  could  take  her 
mother's  place,  aud  how  anxious  she  was  to  try, 
that  before  long  Mrs.  Rushton  found  herself 
acquiescing  in  the  plan,  and  giving  Louise  direc- 
tions what  to  do  about  the  fruit  that  had  been 
ordered  for  preserving,  and  various  other  minor 
matters  which  she  had  expected  to  attend  to 
herself. 

While  they  were  washing  the  dinner  dishes 
Louise  and  her  mother  discussed  the  details  of 
the  latter's  wardrobe,  and  the  result  was  that  an 
hour  later  Mrs.  Rushton  found  herself  on  her  way 
down  town  in  an  unwonted  perturbation  of  mind, 
actually  about  to  purchase  herself  a  cool  travel- 
ling suit,  which  Louise  had  insisted  upon.  There 
were  three  days  of  hurried  preparation,  and  then 


AN    UNCONSCIOUS    MINISTRY.  187 

Mrs.  Rushton  started  away  one  morning,  scarcely 
realizing  that  she  was  bidding  farewell  to  her 
household  cares  for  a  little  time,  and  looking 
younger  and  more  rested  already,  just  in  antici- 
pation of  the  change  before  her.  She  had  filled 
her  trunk  with  a  pile  of  sewing  which  she  had 
expected  to  do  for  the  children  while  she  was 
away,  but  Louise,  detecting  her  intention,  had 
promptly  emptied  it  out. 

"Nothing  but  light  reading  and  the  flimsiest 
of  fancy  work  shall  you  touch  while  you  are 
away  on  your  vacation,"  she  said  decidedly.  UA 
nice  rest  it  would  be  to  sit  and  sew  all  day  !  No, 
indeed,  you  are  to  have  a  real  good  time  for  once, 
so  do  n't  let  me  catch  you  trying  to  smuggle  any 
work  in." 

The  mother  protested  a  little,  but  yielded 
at  last,  and  Louise  had  her  way  in  the  end.  As 
the  train  moved  out  of  the  station  she  felt  her 
heart  sink  at  the  responsibility  she  had  assumed, 
and  she  thought  how  gladly  she  would  welcome 
the  day  that  would  bring  her  mother  home  again; 
but  she  reproached  herself  for  the  selfishness  of 
shrinking  from  the  treadmill  where  her  mother 
spent  her  life,  and  Dottie  diverted  her  mind  from 
all  but  the  present  by  clamoring  for  a  pink  pop- 
corn ball  so  loudly  that  her  wants  had  to  be 
immediately  attended  to. 


i88  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

During  the  days  that  followed  Louise  learned 
to  appreciate  her  mother  as  she  never  had  before. 
She  wondered  again  and  again  how  her  mother 
had  ever  managed  to  keep  her  sweetness  of  tem- 
per, when  she  had  these  little  annoyances  and 
vexations  to  prick  her  at  every  turn.  The  con- 
stant planning  and  contriving  necessary  to  keep 
the  household  expenses  within  the  doctor's  small 
income,  Kitty's  incompetence  and  heedlessness, 
the  constant  demands  of  the  children  for  some 
service  which  they  were  always  used  to  going 
"to  mother"  for,  made  the  days  very  long  and 
wearisome  to  poor  Louise,  who  was  all  unused  to 
these  cares. 

"I  wonder  if  Kitty  couldn't  manage  to  get 
breakfast  for  once  without  my  watching  her  all 
the  time,"  she  said  to  herself  one  unusually  op- 
pressive morning,  and  instead  of  going  into  the 
kitchen,  she  indulged  herself  with  a  walk  in  the 
garden. 

She  learned  her  mistake  a  little  later  when 
the  family  gathered  around  the  table  for  break- 
fast. 

The  oatmeal  looked  as  if  it  had  been  carefully 
cooked,  and  as  Louise  helped  her  father  she 
thought  that  at  all  events  the  first  course  would 
be  satisfactory.  The  wry  face  that  greeted  the 
first  taste  made  the  children  shout  with  laughter, 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  189 

while  Louise  asked  anxiously,  "What  is  the 
matter  with  it,  father?  Is  it  scorched?" 

"  Taste  it  and  see,  daughter,"  was  the  answer. 
And  Louise  put  a  spoonful  into  her  mouth  to  find 
to  her  mortification  that  it  was  as  salt  as  if  it  had 
been  made  of  the  strongest  brine. 

She  rang  for  the  rest  of  the  breakfast,  resolv- 
ing to  acquaint  Kitty  with  her  fault  in  a  way 
that  she  would  remember. 

"Why  did  n't  I  go  out  and  see  after  things 
myself?"  she  reflected  bitterly,  as  she  poured  from 
the  coffee-pot  the  pale-colored  fluid  that  she  knew 
would  not  take  the  place  of  the  cup  of  good  coffee 
her  father  always  wanted  in  the  morning. 

The  omelet  was  a  flat,  indigestible-looking 
compound,  swimming  in  grease,  the  fried  pota- 
toes were  so  thoroughly  fried  that  they  were  too 
hard  to  put  a  fork  into,  and  had  to  be  chased 
pertinaciously  around  the  plate  before  they  could 
be  captured,  and  then  Dottie  complained  that 
her  potatoes  "  were  bony,  and  she  couldn't  bite 
them." 

The  rolls  that  had  been  put  in  the  oven 
to  be  warmed  over  were  dried  through  and 
scorched,  and  with  burning  cheeks  Louise  saw 
her  father  try  in  vain  to  eat  one  thing  after  an- 
other, until  at  last  he  pushed  his  chair  back  from 
the  table. 


190  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Oh,  father,  I'm  so  sorry,"  Louise  said 
apologetically,  knowing  that  he  had  seen  her 
strolling  around  the  garden  when  she  should 
have  been  attending  to  the  morning  meal. 

"Well,  never  mind,  daughter,"  he  said  kind- 
ly, though  he  was  tempted  to  be  a  little  out  of 
patience  at  losing  his  breakfast.  "We  can't 
expect  to  find  old  heads  on  young  shoulders,  and 
you  have  been  doing  bravely,  considering  how 
new  it  all  is  to  you.  I  '11  stop  at  the  dairy  and 
get  a  glass  of  milk  on  my  way  out  of  town,  and 
you  can  have  dinner  an  hour  earlier,  for  I  think 
we  '11  all  be  ready  for  it." 

Notwithstanding  her  father's  kindness,  Louise 
was  sorely  mortified  at  the  utter  failure  of  the 
breakfast.  The  children  protested  that  there  was 
not  anything  that  they  could  eat,  and  that  they 
must  have  something  else.  The  bread-box, 
Louise  knew,  was  empty,  so  she  promised  to 
make  them  some  mush  if  they  would  wait  pa- 
tiently for  a  little  while  and  go  out  to  play,  and 
then,  taking  the  oatmeal  dish  in  her  hand,  she 
went  out  into  the  kitchen. 

"Open  your  mouth,  Kitty,"  she  said  sternly, 
and  the  unsuspecting  Kitty  obeyed.  Louise  put 
a  large  tablespoonful  of  the  oatmeal  in  the  widely 
stretched  mouth,  and  enjoyed  the  grimaces  which 
the  girl  made  as  she  swallowed  it. 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS   MINISTRY.  191 

"What  sort  of  cooking  do  you  call  that?" 
asked  Louise.  "I  should  think,  Kitty,  that  you 
might  know  enough,  after  all  mother's  teaching, 
to  cook  oatmeal  properly.  What  on  earth  did 
you  put  so  much  salt  in  it  for?  Nobody  could 
eat  a  mouthful." 

"Well,  you  see,"  explained  Kitty,  "I 
couldn't  quite  remember  whether  I  had  salted  it, 
when  I  was  ready  to  dish  it,  so  I  salted  it  again, 
just  to  make  sure  anyhow.  I  thought  too  much 
would  be  better  than  none  at  all." 

"Couldn't  you  have  tasted  it?"  demanded 
Louise. 

"Ah,  sure  now  I  never  thought  of  that  at 
all,  at  all,"  responded  the  imperturbably  good- 
humored  Kitty. 

"Well,  I  wish  you  would  learn  to  think 
sometimes  and  pay  a  little  attention  to  what  you 
are  about,"  said  Louise.  "There  was  not  one 
thing  on  the  table  that  was  fit  to  eat,  and  father 
had  to  go  off  without  a  mouthful  of  breakfast. 
Now  you  can  bring  the  things  out  here,  while 
I  make  some  mush  for  the  children.  I'll  never 
trust  you  again  to  get  a  meal." 

"  Sure  if  you  want  a  thing  done  well,  the  best 
way  is  to  look  after  it  yourself,"  returned  the  un- 
abashed Kitty.  "Your  ma  always  does,  and 
then  she's  sure  that  nothing  wont  go  wrong." 


193  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT    THINGS. 

Louise  had  no  answer  to  make  to  this  wholly 
true  though  not  very  palatable  remark,  and  she 
devoted  herself  to  making  the  mush  for  the 
children,  who  danced  about  the  kitchen  door, 
clamoring  to  know  when  it  would  be  done,  and 
seeming  to  regard  the  utter  failure  of  the  first 
breakfast  as  a  huge  joke. 

"Poor  mother,  I  don't  wonder  she  looked 
so  tired,"  thought  Louise,  as  at  last  breakfast 
was  over  and  she  set  herself  busily  to  work  at  the 
small  tasks  that  were  awaiting  her,  trying  by 
increased  faithfulness  now  to  make  up  for  her 
morning  negligence.  "I  do  mean  to  try  and 
help  her  more  after  this,  for  it  is  too  bad  for  her 
to  have  all  the  bother  resting  upon  her  all  the 
time,  and  it  must  be  as  hard  for  her  as  it  is  'for 
me." 

In  the  meantime  the  mother  had  not  forgotten 
the  cares  which  she  knew  were  pressing  heavily 
upon  the  young  shoulders,  notwithstanding 
Louise's  bright  and  cheerful  letters;  but  she  was 
gathering  strength  for  her  duties  when  she  should 
return  with  every  inhalation  of  the  strengthening 
sea  breeze,  while  with  her  freedom  from  anxiety 
there  came  a  brightness  to  her  eyes  and  a  color  to 
her  cheek  that  had  been  missing  for  years. 


NEXTS.  193 

CHAPTER   XV. 

NEXTS. 

BENEATH  Miss  Abigail's  hospitable  roof  the 
guests  were  thriving  on  their  plain,  wholesome 
fare  and  the  fresh  pure  air.  Mrs.  Ehrich's  thin 
cheeks  were  growing  fuller,  and  she  was  devel- 
oping into  a  hopeful,  energetic  little  woman  as 
her  health  and  strength  came  back  to  her. 
Every  day  made  a  difference  in  the  baby's  ap- 
pearance, and  he  was  growing  plump  and  rosy, 
with  a  lusty  cry  that  was  very  different  from  the 
feeble  wail  of  his  first  arrival,  and  now  and  then 
a  little  cooing  sound  that  delighted  his  mother's 
heart. 

"  You  don't  know  the  pleasure  and  company 
it  is  to  have  that  baby  in  the  house,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  mother,"  Miss  Abigail  said  to  Christie  one 
day,  as  she  walked  down  to  the  gate  to  meet  her, 
with  the  baby  cuddled  up  in  her  strong  arms  as 
cosily  as  if  she  had  held  babies  all  her  life.  "He 's 
such  a  dear  little  fellow  and  takes  so  much  notice 
of  everything.  It's  made  me  more  thankful  for 
my  mercies,  having  them  here,  too,  Miss  Christie. 
I  used  to  get  lonesome  streaks,  and  think  it  was 

Chr1«tl«'«  Next  Thin;«.  I  •? 


194  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

hard  lines  for  me  to  be  left  here  without  a  chick 
or  child  in  the  world,  except  Tim,  and  I  'in  most 
past  looking  for  him  no\v.  Seems  to  me  mother's 
prayers  would  have  brought  him  home  before  now 
if  he  was  coming.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  had 
my  spells  of  studying  on  what  I  hadn't  got,  and 
so  I  lost  sight  sometimes  of  all  I  had  got;  but 
since  that  poor  woman  's  been  here,  and  I  've  seen 
what  a  treat  just  the  river  and  the  birds  and  the 
trees  are  to  her,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  re- 
member only  the  good  things  that  I  have,  as  free 
as  air,  and  not  take  stock  in  worrying.  It  would 
be  hard  to  have  little  children  growing  up  around 
you  in  one  of  those  alleys,  where  they  couldn't 
be  half  taken  care  of  nor  couldn't  even  get  a 
breath  of  pure  air.  There 's  far  worse  things  than 
have  ever  come  to  me,  and  I  'm  getting  to  realize 
it  more  and  more  every  day.  I  wish  I  could  have 
some  one  else  here  that  needs  a  change.  I  have 
plenty  of  room,  and  it  would  do  my  heart  good  to 
see  some  one  else  enjoying  this  beautiful  river 
besides  the  baby  and  his  mother.  If  you  know 
of  any  one  else  they  will  be  very  welcome,  Miss 
Christie." 

It  \vas  this  conversation,  and  the  money  that 
lay  carefully  folded  up  in  Christie's  "tenth-box" 
ready  for  use,  that  made  her  wish  for  some  op- 
portunity to  add  to  Miss  Abigail's  household. 


NEXTS.  195 

The  girls  had  shared  Mrs.  Ehrich's  expenses,  so 
Christie  still  had  some  money  left  from  her  fifty 
dollars,  with  which  she  wanted  to  make  some  one 
happy  when  the  opportunity  came  to  her. 

She  wrote  to  an  old  friend,  who  had  formerly 
been  a  teacher  at  Maplewood  Institute,  and  was 
now  living  in  the  city,  telling  her  of  her  wish  to 
help  some  one  who  was  in  need  of  the  benefit  of 
fresh  air  and  a  change.  She  knew  that  Mrs. 
Elliott  taught  in  a  mission  school  and  was  inter- 
ested in  several  charitable  organizations,  so  she 
hoped  that  she  would  be  able  to  advise  her  wisely, 
and  suggest  some  one  who  really  needed  assist- 
ance. 

Very  promptly  the  answer  came,  and  a  very 
satisfactory  one  it  was  to  Christie. 

"  Your  letter  came  to  me  as  a  direct  answer  to 
my  earnest  prayers,"  Mrs.  Elliott  wrote.  "I 
have  been  very  much  interested  in  a  young  woman 
who  has  been  attending  my  mothers'  meeting  for 
some  time.  She  has  had  a  very  hard  life  the  last 
few  years,  and  one  of  bitter  disappointment  She 
confesses  that  it  is  trouble  that  she  has  brought 
upon  herself,  but  it  is  none  the  less  hard  to  bear. 
In  fact  I  think  it  is  often  easier  to  bear  troubles 
which  God  sends  us  than  those  which  we  bring 
upon  ourselves  by  our  own  wilfulness  and  wrong- 
doing. She  had  a  pleasant  home  and  good  pa- 


196  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

rents,  but  about  eight  years  ago  she  became  in- 
fatuated with  a  young  man  who,  according  to  her 
own  confession,  was  wild  and  dissipated,  and  ran 
away  from  home  with  him.  It  was  a  most  un- 
happy marriage,  for  he  was  a  selfish,  unprinci- 
pled fellow,  who  was  not  capable  of  any  real  affec- 
tion for  her.  His  feelings  towards  her  were  rath- 
er those  of  admiration  for  her  pretty  face  and 
bright  ways  than  anything  else,  and  after  he  had 
won  her  he  soon  tired  of  these  attractions.  Per- 
haps it  was  partly  the  wife's  fault,  too,  for  she 
was  a  vain,  giddy  girl,  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
put  her  parents'  wishes  and  commands  at  de- 
fiance, and  repay  all  their  love  and  care  by  leav- 
ing them  for  a  man  of  whom  they  could  not  ap- 
prove. There  was  not  very  much  in  her  to  call 
out  the  best  and  highest  affections  of  a  man's 
nature,  and  after  a  few  weeks  both  husband  and 
wife  quarrelled  bitterly.  At  the  end  of  a  year  of 
mutual  unhappiness  he  deserted  her,  leaving  her 
with  a  little  daughter  but  a  fe\v  weeks  old  to 
care  for  as  best  she  might.  She  went  back  to 
her  father  and  mother,  and  they  opened  their 
home  again  to  her;  but  their  hearts  had  been  bro- 
ken when  she  left  them,  and  before  a  year  had 
passed  she  had  seen  them  both  laid  away  to  rest. 
This  left  her  alone  in  the  world  except  for  her 
little  daughter,  for  she  riad  heard  nothing  from 


NEXTS.  197 

her  husband  since  he  left  her,  and  she  believes 
him  dead.  It  has  been  a  hard  struggle  for  her  to 
earn  bread  for  herself  and  her  child,  and  when  I 
heard  her  story  I  became  very  much  interested  in 
her.  She  was  induced  to  attend  the  mothers' 
meetings,  and  has  learned  at  last  to  whom  to  go 
for  help  with  her  burdens:  but  she  stands  very 
much  in  need  of  human  help  and  sympathy  just 
now.  She  has  been  ill  for  some  time  and  is  not 
able  to  work,  and  the  little  girl,  who  is  a  delicate 
child,  is  beginning  to  droop  too.  A  little  time  of 
rest  in  the  pure  air  is  what  she  most  needs,  and  I 
have  been  praying  that  just  such  a  chance  might 
be  open  to  her.  God  has  sent  his  answer  through 
you,  my  dear  girl,  and  in  poor  Mrs.  Harmer's 
name  I  most  gladly  accept  your  invitation.  If 
you  have  room  for  both  mother  and  daughter,  it 
will  be  a  double  pleasure  to  them  not  to  be  sepa- 
rated ;  but  if  not,  perhaps  I  can  get  a  ticket  for 
little  Naomi  to  go  to  one  of  those  seaside  homes 
for  children.  Let  me  hear  when  you  want  your 
guest  or  guests,  and  I  will  make  arrangements  to 
send  them  to  you  at  any  date  you  mention." 

Mrs.  Gilbert  shared  Christie's  pleasure  over 
this  letter,  and  after  a  conversation  with  Miss 
Abigail,  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Elliott,  asking  her  to 
send  Mrs.  Harmer  and  her  daughter  to  them  as 
soon  as  possible. 


198  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

The  very  next  day  they  came,  and  Christie 
was  at .  the  station  to  meet  them,  full  of  pleased 
expectancy.  Mrs.  Harmer  was  still  a  pretty  wo- 
man, though  her  years  of  anxiety  and  her  illness 
had  made  her  face  look  thin  and  careworn. 
Christie  was  at  once  attracted  to  the  child,  a  deli- 
cate, interesting  looking  little  girl,  who  lifted  her 
dark  eyes  to  Christie,  when  she  welcomed  her, 
with  such  a  look  of  shy  gratitude  that  Christie 
could  not  forbear  stooping  and  kissing  the  pretty 
lips  that  parted  in  a  smile  of  pleasure. 

Both  mother  and  daughter  enjoyed  the  drive 
out  to  Miss  Abigail's,  and  Christie  enjoyed  their 
exclamations  of  pleasure  over  the  river  and  the 
white-winged  vessels  which  were  flitting  before 
the  wind. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Harmer,  Miss  Abigail,"  Chris- 
tie said,  as  the  little  old  lady  came  briskly  out  to 
meet  her  guests,  the  very  impersonation  of  cheery 
hospitality. 

"  Harmer!  why,  that  is  my  name,  too,"  Miss 
Abigail  said,  as  she  shook  hands  with  her  guest. 
"And  what's  your  name,  little  one?" 

"Naomi,"  the  child  answered  shyly,  glancing 
up  into  the  kindly  face. 

"Why,  that  was  my  mother's  name!"  said 
Miss  Abigail,  her  voice  taking  a  softer  tone  as  she 
spoke  of  her  mother.  "  I  declare  to  goodness,  I 


NEXTS.  199 

shall  have  to  believe  you  're  both  relations  of  mine 
with  those  names.  Well,  you're  doubly  wel- 
come, and  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourselves  here. 
There's  a  dear  little  baby  for  you  to  play  with, 
Naomi,  if  you  're  fond  of  babies.  When  I  was 
your  size  I  liked  them  better  than  dolls,  a  good 
sight."  Naomi  smiled  at  the  baby  and  touched 
her  finger  to  its  round  cheek,  while  Mrs.  Ehrich 
looked  pleased  at  this  attention  to  her  baby. 

Miss  Abigail  ushered  Mrs.  Harmer  up  to  her 
room  under  the  eaves,  and  the  cosey  little  room 
looked  like  a  haven  of  rest  to  the  tired  and  dis- 
couraged woman.  She  sank  into  the  old  arm- 
chair that  stood  beside  the  window,  with  a  little 
sigh  of  relief,  when  Miss  Abigail  left  her,  and 
Christie,  coming  up  a  little  later,  found  her  sitting 
there  with  her  hands  clasped  and  a  smile  of  con- 
tent on  her  face. 

"I  wish  I  could  thank  you,  Miss  Gilbert," 
she  said.  "  I  cannot  tell  you  what  a  blessed  rest 
this  will  be  to  me.  It  is  just  what  I  wanted  so 
sorely,  and"  I  have  not  deserved  that  the  Lord 
should  care  for  my  needs  and  lead  me  beside  the, 
still,  waters." 

"Indeed,  I  feel  that  it  is  a  privilege  to  be  His 
instrument  in  answering  prayer,"  Christie  said 
gently,  "and  you  must  not  thank  me  for  what  I 
find  it  a  pleasure  to  do." 


200  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"There  must  be  a  blessedness  in  knowing 
that  you  can  give  new  life  and  hope  to  one  who 
is  almost  discouraged,"  answered  Mrs.  Harmer, 
looking  wistfully  at  the  bright  young  face  that 
looked  into  her  own.  Perhaps  she  was  thinking 
of  the  time  when  she  too  was  young  and  pretty, 
and  when  her  life  was  carefully  guarded  and  shel- 
tered by  loving  parents.  She  had  thrown  away 
much  that  she  might  gratify  her  self-will  and 
misplaced  affection,  and  it  was  almost  too  late 
now  to  retrieve  the  mistakes  of  the  past  and  re- 
deem the  future.  She  was  so  alone  in  the  world 
but  for  little  Naomi,  and  care  though  the  child 
was,  yet  she  more  than  repaid  every  self-denial 
for  her  sake,  she  was  so  clinging  and  affectionate. 

Miss  Abigail  was  very  much  pleased  with  her 
new  guests,  and  before  the  evening  meal  was 
ended  Naomi  had  forgotten  her  shyness,  and 
every  now  and  then  burst  into  a  merry  ripple  of 
childish  laughter  over  some  of  the  antics  of  Miss 
Abigail's  kitten,  who  played  with  its  grave  old 
mother's  tail  and  ears  in  a  manner  that  shocked 
the  sober  old  cat. 

"Is  she  your  only  child?"  asked  Miss  Abi- 
gail, watching  Naomi  as  she  strayed  down  to- 
wards the  gate,  her  slight  childish  figure  ma- 
king a  pretty  picture  as  she  played  with  the  kitten 
which  followed  her,  glad  of  a  new  playmate. 


NEXTS.  201 

"  Yes,  she  is  the  only  child  I  ever  had,"  Mrs. 
Harmer  answered. 

"Is  your  husband  dead?"  Miss  Abigail  in- 
quired. By  this  time  Naomi  had  returned  to  the 
porch,  and  Mrs.  Harmer  answered  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation, 

"Naomi  lost  her  father  when  she  was  only  a 
few  weeks  old;"  then  when  after  a  few  moments 
Naomi  had  gone  away  again,  she  said,  "I  have 
never  told  her  the  whole  truth,  and  she  thinks 
her  father  is  dead ;  but  I  do  not  want  to  deceive 
you.  My  husband  left  me  when  Naomi  was  a 
little  baby  and  I  have  never  heard  anything  of 
him  since.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  living 
or  not. ' ' 

"  He  must  have  been  a  bad  man  to  go  off  and 
leave  his  wife  and  child,"  said  Miss  Abigail. 
"  You  must  have  been  but  a  young  bit  of  a  thing 
then,  for  you  don't  look  much  but  a  girl  now." 

"I  was  only  seventeen  when  I  was  married," 
Mrs.  Harmer  answered,  "but  I  have  had  trouble 
enough  to  make  me  feel  much  older  than  my 
years.  If  it  was  not  for  Naomi  I  should  not  want 
to  live;  but  for  her  sake  I  am  very  glad  of  this 
rest  and  the  chance  to  grow  strong  and  well 
again." 

"Naomi  is  an  unusual  name,"  said  Miss 
Abigail. 


202  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Yes,  it  was  the  name  of  my  husband's  mo- 
ther, and  he  wanted  it  given  to  his  child,"  Mrs. 
Harmer  answered,  stroking  the  dark  curly  head 
of  the  little  girl,  who  was  sitting  at  her  feet  now 
with  her  head  resting  against  her  mother's  knee. 

"  I  expect  you  are  tired  after  your  journey, 
little  girl,"  said  Miss  Abigail,  looking  with  kind- 
ly eyes  at  the  flushed  face  and  heavy  eyes.  u  I  '11 
read  a  chapter  in  the  good  Book,  and  we  will 
make  an  early  start  to  bed  and  get  up  early. 
These  summer  mornings  are  too  beautiful  to 
spend  in  sleep." 

Naomi  was  very  willing  to  go  to  bed,  and  half 
an  hour  later  her  mother  followed  her,  and  at  an 
early  hour  all  the  occupants  of  the  little  cottage 
were  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

The  days  sped  all  too  swiftly  to  the  visitors, 
and  Miss  Abigail  often  said  she  did  not  know 
how  she  could  ever  reconcile  herself  to  parting 
with  Naomi  and  the  baby,  they  had  won  her 
heart  so  completely. 

Even  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  August  days 
did  not  seem  to  be  overpowering  here,  where 
breezes  from  the  river  stole  into  the  little  cottage, 
and  the  fresh  pure  air,  laden  with  the  fragrance  of 
flowers  and  the  melody  of  the  birds,  seemed  to 
bring  new  life  to  Mrs.  Harmer  and  Naomi.  The 
little  girl  delighted  in  making  herself  useful  in 


NEXTS.  203 

childish  ways,  and  she  was  quite  proud  when  she 
could  be  intrusted  with  commissions  to  the  vil- 
lage store.  She  had  grown  so  strong  that  the 
walk,  although  somewhat  of  a  long  one,  did  not 
tire  her  out  at  all,  and  she  enjoyed  her  feeling  of 
importance  in  taking  so  much  of  an  expedition 
alone. 

One  afternoon  Miss  Abigail  was  in  need  of 
some  small  articles  from  the  village  store,  and 
Naomi  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  go  and  get  them. 

"I'm  afraid  it 's  too  hot  for  you,  child,"  Miss 
Abigail  said  doubtfully;  but  Naomi  coaxed  to  be 
allowed  to  go,  saying  that  she  would  take  her 
mother's  umbrella  to  shield  her  from  the  sun,  and 
that  there  would  be  a  breeze  by  the  river  nearly 
all  the  way. 

Miss  Abigail  let  her  have  her  way  at  last,  and 
Naomi  started  off  triumphantly,  taking  the  um- 
brella with  her  as  a  protection  against  the  heat  of 
the  sun. 

The  heat  increased  after  she  had  started,  and 
the  breeze  died  away  completely,  and  Naomi 
almost  wished  that  she  had  not  begged  to  come, 
as  she  felt  the  gathering  oppressiveness.  She 
discharged  her  errand  and  started  towards  home, 
not  noticing  the  heavy  bank  of  clouds  that  had 
loomed  up  in  the  sky  nor  the  singular  stillness 
which  often  precedes  a  storm.  The  leaves  on  the 


204  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

trees  hung  pendulous  without  a  motion,  and  it 
would  have  been  evident  to  eyes  more  experi- 
enced than  little  Naomi's  that  a  storm  was 
brewing. 

A  heavy  peal  of  thunder  startled  the  child  and 
great  drops  of  rain  pattered  down  slowly,  the 
advance  guard  of  a  coming  deluge.  Naomi  raised 
her  umbrella  and  quickened  her  steps,  but  a  gust 
of  wind  nearly  blew  her  over.  She  was  not  a 
timid  child,  but  she  was  a  little  frightened  at 
finding  herself  facing  the  storm  on  this  lonely 
river  road,  so  far  from  home,  and  tears  came  to 
her  eyes  as  she  put  down  her  umbrella  and  tried 
to  force  her  way  along  against  the  wind. 

She  was  passing  a  little  copse  of  trees  when  a 
sound  reached  her  ears  that  made  her  pause  to 
listen,  while  her  heart  beat  a  little  faster. 

Surely  those  were  the  sound  of  groans,  as  of 
some  one  in  distress.  She  went  timidly  towards 
the  clump  of  trees,  and  peering  into  the  shadows 
descried  a  man  lying  upon  the  ground,  with  his 
face  in  the  moss. 

He  was  evidently  in  pain,  for  as  Naomi 
looked  at  him  she  heard  him  groan  again.  The 
child's  first  impulse  was  to  run  away,  and  she 
went  several  rods  before  she  paused  to  look  back. 
She  had  a  childish  fear  of  tramps,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  this  man's  rough  appearance  to  in- 


NEXTS.  205 

spire  her  with  any  confidence.  She  paused  to 
look  back,  and  saw  him  feebly  dragging  himself 
out  of  the  covert  of  the  underbrush  and  trying  to 
gain  the  road. 

"He  must  be  sick,  poor  man,"  said  Naomi 
pitifully,  as  she  saw  his  uncertain  gait,  which  did 
not  seem  like  the  stagger  of  an  intoxicated  man, 
although  it  was  nearly  as  undetermined.  He 
had  not  gone  many  paces  before  his  strength 
gave  out  and  he  fell  again.  Naomi  stood  and 
looked  at  him.  The  wind  was  growing  higher 
each  moment,  the  air  was  full  of  flying  leaves  and 
dead  twigs,  and  the  rain  was  beginning  to  fall  in 
earnest. 

Naomi  did  not  know  whether  to  run  towards 
home  as  speedily  as  possible,  or  go  back  and  see 
if  she  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  the  poor  man. 
She  was  half  afraid  of  him,  and  she  wanted  to 
seek  the  refuge  of  home  as  speedily  as  possible, 
but  her  tender  heart  forbade  her  leaving  any  one 
who  was  in  distress. 

She  retraced  her  footsteps  and  leaned  over  the 
man,  who  was  groaning  again. 

"  Are  you  sick  ?"  she  asked  gently. 

The  man  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her 
with  a  vacant  gaze.  She  touched  his  hand  and 
found  he  was  burning  with  fever,  and  she  shrank 
away  from  him  for  a  moment. 


2o6  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"It  seems  longer  than  it  used  to,"  he  said 
indistinctly.  "  Mother  will  be  wondering  why  I 
don't  come,  and  it 's  getting  late.  Tell  her  I  am 
coming.  I  will  arise  and  go — "  and  his  voice 
died  away  in  unintelligible  murmurings. 

The  thunder  crashed  loudly,  and  Naomi  shud- 
dered with  terror.  Mother  had  told  her  it  was 
God's  voice,  but  it  frightened  her  to  hear  it  in 
this  lonely  place  with  this  sick  man.  It  was  very 
different  when  she  was  nestled  in  the  safe  shelter 
of  mother's  arms. 

She  would  not  go  away  and  leave  the  poor 
man  alone,  lying  here  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
with  the  rain  beating  down  upon  him.  With 
considerable  difficulty  she  raised  the  umbrella, 
and  shielded  the  man's  face  at  least  from  the  fury 
of  the  rain,  which  was  now  coming  down  in  tor- 
rents, while  she  herself  crept  under  the  same 
shelter. 

It  was  not  as  hard  to  hold  the  umbrella  now 
that  it  was  close  to  the  ground,  and  Naomi  kept 
it  quite  steadily  in  its  place.  Would  the  rain 
ever  stop,  she  wondered  drearily,  as  it  came  down 
in  great  sheets,  while  the  wind  nearly  took  her 
breath  away. 

If  she  was  only  safely  home!  and  she  sobbed 
softly  to  herself  as  she  shivered  with  the  wet  and 
cold.  The  rain  and  wind  did  not  seem  to  abate 


NEXTS.  SO/ 

the  burning  fever  of  the  sick  man,  and  his  inco- 
herent mutterings  frightened  the  child.  At  last 
the  storm  spent  itself  and  the  rain  began  to 
slacken  in  its  heavy  downpour.  Rifts  of  blue 
sky  gleamed  out  through  the  clouds  and  the 
distant  rumble  of  the  thunder  showed  that  the 
storm  had  passed  over  that  part  of  the  country. 

Naomi  looked  wistfully  along  the  road.  She 
would  not  go  and  leave  her  self-imposed  charge 
until  some  one  came  who  could  take  care  of  him. 
Patiently  she  sat  by  his  side,  wondering  why  the 
road  seemed  so  entirely  deserted  that  afternoon. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  to  the  child,  though  in 
reality  it  was  not  an  hour,  before  she  heard  the 
approaching  rattle  of  wagon  wheels  and  knew 
that  some  one  was  coming  at  last. 

It  was  an  empty  farm-wagon,  and  the  driver, 
a  stout,  well-grown  boy  of  eighteen,  stopped  his 
horses,  when  he  saw  the  little  group  at  the  road- 
side, and  jumped  out. 

"  Halloa,  sissy  !  What's  the  matter?"  he 
asked.  "Man  got  struck  by  lightning?" 

Naomi  shook  her  head. 

"No,  he's  sick;  he's  got  some  kind  of  a 
fever,"  she  answered.  "He  was  lying  here  in 
the  woods  and  groaning,  and  then  he  got  up  and 
came  a  little  way  up  the  road  before  he  fell  down. 
I  was  afraid  to  leave  him  all  alone." 


2o8  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

"Seems  to  me  I'd  have  been  more  afraid  to 
stay  with  him,"  answered  the  boy.  "  He  looks 
to  me  as  if  he  was  drunk,"  he  went  on,  leaning 
over  the  prostrate  man. 

But  there  was  no  odor  of  liquor  about  the 
man  's  breath,  and  when  the  boy  touched  him  he 
could  tell,  unused  as  he  was  to  sickness,  that 
fever  was  raging  in  his  veins. 

"I  wonder  what  it  is  that's  the  matter  with 
him,"  the  boy  said.  "  I  suppose  I  'd  better  take 
him  somewhere  as  long  as  I  've  got  an  empty 
wagon,  though  I'm  almost  afraid  to  touch  him. 
I  wonder  where  he  belongs  anyhow  ?  Say,  mis- 
ter, where  do  you  want  to  go?"  he  asked,  giving 
the  man  a  gentle  shake.  But  he  got  no  intel- 
ligible reply. 

"Take  him  along  to  Miss  Abigail's,"  said 
Naomi;  "she'll  know  what  to  do  about  him." 

"  Well,"  the  boy  answered,  "  I  '11  see  if  I  can 
get  him  into  the  bottom  of  the  wagon.  He  looks 
pretty  hefty  to  lift,  but  I  guess  I  can  manage  it." 

It  was  rather  a  hard  task,  even  for  the  sturdy 
muscles  of  the  farm-bred  boy,  to  lift  the  weight  of 
a  helpless  man,  but  he  pulled  and  pushed,  Naomi 
assisting  with  all  her  tiny  strength,  and  at  last  he 
was  safely  deposited  in  the  wagon. 

"It's  so  hard  for  his  head,"  said  Naomi. 
"I '11  hold  it  on  my  lap." 


NEXTS.  209 

"Why,  you're  as  wet  as  if  you  had  been  in 
the  river,"  said  the  boy,  looking  at  the  child's 
dripping  clothes.  "You'd  better  put  this  old 
bag  around  you. ' ' 

With  the  sick  man's  head  on  her  lap,  Naomi 
felt  as  if  he  was  more  comfortable,  and  twenty 
minutes  later  the  wagon  drove  up  before  the  door 
of  the  cottage,  where  the  inmates  were  anxiously 
wondering  about  the  child's  safety.  Miss  Abi- 
gail assured  Mrs.  Harmer  that  they  would  detain 
her  in  the  village  till  the  storm  had  spent  itself, 
but  despite  this  assurance  the  mother's  heart  was 
filled  with  anxiety. 

When  they  saw  her  seated  in  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon  they  thought  some  accident  had  hap- 
pened to  her,  but  a  moment  later  they  saw  that 
she  was  only  holding  some  one's  head  in  her  lap 
and  was  uninjured  herself. 

"  Here  's  some  company  for  you,  Miss  Abby," 
the  boy  shouted,  and  Miss  Abby  hurried  out  to 
learn  who  her  unexpected  guest  might  be. 


'*  Next  Thlnm. 


210  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT   THINGS. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN. 

IT  had  been  nearly  two  weeks  since  the  Sun- 
day afternoon  when  Tim  Harmer  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  go  back  to  his  home  and  seek  for- 
giveness from  his  old  parents  whom  he  had  neg- 
lected for  so  many  years.  He  had  begun  at  once 
to  put  his  resolution  into  effect,  and  when  the 
sunset  was  touching  the  grand  old  cliffs  of  Mar- 
blehead  with  their  reflected  glory  he  had  already 
set  out  upon  his  homeward  way. 

It  was  no  easy  task  to  take  such  a  journey 
when  he  was  almost  penniless  and  was  feeling 
the  effects  of  a  prolonged  debauch.  Fortunately 
a  fishing  smack,  with  whose  captain  he  was  upon 
terms  of  friendly  acquaintance,  was  about  to  put 
out  of  harbor,  and  by  taking  passage  on  this 
vessel  he  was  carried  quite  a  distance  on  his 
way  without  cost. 

As  far  as  his  money  went  he  travelled  by 
rail  after  that,  but  when  his  last  cent  was  ex- 
pended he  was  still  many  a  long,  weary  mile 
from  home.  He  had  meant  to  work  a  day  now 
and  then  for  farmers,  and  get  a  little  money  in 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  211 

that  way  to  help  him  along;  but  he  was  too  ill 
for  that,  so  he  tramped  wearily  along  the  dusty, 
never-ending  road,  sleeping  at  night  wherever 
he  could  find  a  place,  in  some  barn  or  beneath 
the  shelter  of  a  hedge,  and  begging  his  meals 
at  the  farmhouses  he  passed.  A  slow  fever  was 
burning  in  his  veins  and  exhausting  his  scanty 
store  of  strength,  and  he  was  glad  to  beg  a  lift 
from  wagons  passing  him  on  the  road. 

At  last  only  one  more  day's  journey  lay  be- 
tween him  and  his  home.  He  was  almost  too 
exhausted  to  crawl  from  beneath  the  hedge 
where  he  had  spent  the  night,  but  the  cup  of 
strong  coffee  which  a  kindly  farmer's  wife  gave 
him  revived  him  somewhat,  and  he  trudged 
doggedly  on,  not  yielding  to  the  weakness  which 
every  now  and  then  threatened  to  overpower 
him.  He  was  suffering  not  only  from  weakness, 
but  from  the  cut  on  his  head,  which  had  not 
healed,  but  was  growing  more  painful  every  day; 
and  sometimes  he  was  afraid  that  he  would  not 
be  able  to  finish  even  the  little  distance  that  he 
thought  now  lay  between  him  and  his  mother. 

At  last  the  village  was  reached,  and  he  passed 
through  the  familiar  streets  which  his  boyish 
footsteps  had  so  often  traversed  in  past  years. 
He  would  not  pause  to  rest,  but  kept  steadily 
on  until  he  reached  the  river  road,  which  was 


2i2  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

so  near  home.  The  oppressive  heat  which  her- 
alded the  storm  made  him  feel  faint  and  weak, 
and  the  fever  burned  so  fiercely  that  his  thoughts 
grew  confused.  He  went  down  to  the  river's 
brink,  and,  leaning  over  among  the  rushes, 
bathed  his  face  and  hands  and  slaked  his  thirst. 

It  was  useless* to  try  and  go  any  farther  until 
he  had  a  few  moments'  rest,  for  his  aching  limbs 
and  swollen  feet  would  not  bear  his  weight. 
Yonder  was  the  clump  of  trees  which  had  altered 
so  little  since  he  saw  them  last,  and  with  a  little 
sigh  of  relief  he  crept  in  and  lay  down  upon  the 
cool  bed  of  ferns  and  grass. 

The  pain  in  his  head  increased  and  forced 
deep  groans  from  him,  and  he  scarcely  heeded 
the  deep  ominous  rolling  of  the  thunder,  he.  was 
suffering  so  much.  A  feeling  that  he  must  not 
give  up  to  this  languor,  that  somehow  he  must 
get  home,  made  him  drag  himself  to  his  feet  and 
stagger  a  little  way  up  the  road;  but  then 
strength  and  consciousness  together  left  him  and 
he  fell  prostrate. 

Here  it  was  that  Naomi  knelt  beside  him 
and  sheltered  him  from  the  driving  rain;  but 
his  thoughts  were  so  full  of  home  and  mother 
that  he  did  not  heed  his  child  protector,  and 
babbled  on  brokenly  of  the  rambling  thoughts 
that  were  confusing  his  brain. 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  213 

He  was  a  boy  again  and  heard  his  mother 
calling  him,  but  somehow  he  could  not  go  to 
her.  His  feet  seemed  bound  and  his  head  was 
too  heavy  to  lift.  When  he  was  put  in  the 
wagon,  consciousness  had  entirely  left  him,  and 
so  he  did  not  know  when  at  last  his  journey  was 
ended  and  he  had  reached  the  little  brown  house 
that  had  been  the  goal  of  his  long  wandering. 

Miss  Abigail  peered  into  the  wagon  with 
curious  eyes,  wondering  who  it  could  be  that 
Dan  had  brought  to  her  door. 

"Who  is  it,  Dan?"  she  asked,  looking  into 
the  heavy,  flushed  face.  "What  did  you  bring 
him  here  for,  and  where  did  you  find  Naomi?" 

"One  question  at  a  time,  Miss  Abby,  if  you 
please,"  answered  Dan  good-humoredly.  "Who 
he  is  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do; 
but  he  was  lying  there  like  a  log  in  the  public 
road,  with  sissy  here  minding  him,  and  I  just 
fetched  him  along  to  ask  you  what  we  should  do 
with  him.  I  '11  drive  him  on  to  the  poorhouse  if 
you  say  so;  for  he's  in  for  a  spell  of  sickness,  I 
reckon,  and  if  you  a' n't  expecting  him,  he  wont 
be  welcome  company." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Miss  Abigail  doubtfully. 
"  I  hate  to  send  him  along  up  there  to  the  poor- 
house,  but  I  don't  see  my  way  clear  to  taking 
him  in  the  house  just  now,  when  I  've  got  others 


214  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

to  look  out  for.  If  I  was  alone,  I  might  feel  as 
if  he  was  sent  for  me  to  take  care  of;  but  here's 
the  baby  and  Naomi;  they  might  get  some  awful 
sickness  from  him.  What  do  you  say,  Mrs.  Har- 
mer?"  she  asked,  as  she  saw  Mrs.  Harmer  fol- 
lowing Naomi  out  to  the  gate,  listening  to  her 
story  of  the  poor  sick  man.  "Shall  I  let  Dan 
drive  him  on  up  to  the  poorhouse?" 

Mrs.  Harmer  looked  in  the  wagon  at  the  un- 
conscious man.  He  was  rolling  his  head  from 
side  to  side  and  uttering  confused  murmurings 
of  "Mother"  and  "Alice,"  and  as  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  face  of  the  stranger  Mrs.  Harmer 
uttered  a  sharp  cry,  partly  of  pain  and  partly  of 
surprise. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  Miss  Abigail  excitedly, 
while  she  studied  the  unconscious  face  earnestly, 
a  faint  recognition  of  features  that  somehow  were 
strangely  familiar  stealing  over  her. 

"My  husband!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Harmer  in 
trembling  tones.  "Oh,  Miss  Abigail,  it  is  my 
husband!  Poor  Tim!" 

"Tim!"  ejaculated  Miss  Abigail;  and  then 
suddenly  realizing  that  it  was  her  brother,  the 
wanderer  for  whose  return  she  had  waited  and 
watched  and  prayed  so  long,  that  lay  before  her, 
she  covered  her  face  and  shook  from  head  to  foot 
with  her  emotion. 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.     215 

"Well!"  Dan  ejaculated,  as  he  looked  from 
one  to  another  of  the  agitated  women.  "I 
reckon  you  don't  want  him  sent  to  the  poor- 
house  then,  seeing  he  's  a  kin  of  yours.  If  you  '11 
get  his  bed  ready,  Miss  Abigail,  for  I  reckon 
that's  the  place  for  him,  I'll  go  across  lots  and 
get  some  one  to  come  and  help  me  lift  him  in, 
for  he 's  too  heavy  for  me  to  manage  again  with- 
out help.  Wait,  there's  a  carnage  coining.  I 
believe  it's  the  doctor  himself;  now  could  any- 
thing be  luckier!" 

Miss  Abigail  was  g]ad  of  the  necessity  for 
activity  just  then,  and  she  hastily  prepared  the 
bed  which  Mrs.  Ehrich  had  been  occupying  for 
the  sick  man,  and  when  the  doctor  drove  up  a 
few  moments  later  all  was  in  readiness. 

He  helped  Dan  carry  the  man  in,  and  be- 
tween them  they  undressed  him  and  put  him  in 
the  soft,  clean  bed;  then  the  doctor  made  an 
examination.  He  dressed  the  wound  on  his 
head  and  left  medicine  to  allay  his  fever,  telling 
Miss  Abigail  that  with  good  care  there  was  no 
danger  to  be  apprehended. 

"His  fever  is  partly  due  to  excessive  fatigue 
and  exertion,  and  he  looks  to  me  as  if  dissipation 
might  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,"  the  doc- 
tor said.  "His  head  has  not  had  proper  care, 
but  I  think  it'  will  heal  up  now.  Try  to  avoid 


216  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

any  shock  when  he  comes  to  consciousness,  if 
you  can,  and  I  will  look  in  again  in  a  few  hours, 
on  my  way  home,  and  see  how  he  is." 

It  almost  seemed  as  if,  unconscious  though  he 
was,  the  sick  man  realized  the  change  from  the 
hard  road  to  the  comfortable  bed,  for  he  fell  into 
a  gentle,  refreshing  sleep,  and  seemed  to  be  en- 
joying his  surroundings,  though  he  did  not  open 
his  eyes  or  speak. 

"  Poor  Tim!  If  mother  could  only  have  seen 
you  come  home  before  she  died!"  Miss  Abigail 
said,  studying  her  brother's  face  to  see  the  altera- 
tions which  twelve  years  had  made  in  it,  and  re- 
membering the  firm  belief,  which  her  mother  had 
never  lost,  that  some  day  her  boy  would  return. 

"And  isn't  it  a  providence,  one  of  God's  own 
dealings,  that  he  should  come  home  to  find  his 
wife  and  child  here  under  the  old  home  roof! 
Poor  boy,  he  must  have  loved  mother  through 
all,  or  he  wouldn't  have  wanted  to  name  his 
baby  girl  after  her.  It's  no  wonder  I  took  to 
the  little  thing  so,  when  she's  my  own  flesh  and 
blood.  Queer  I  never  suspected  it,  with  the 
name  alike  and  all,  but  it  seemed  too  unlikely 
to  be  possible  that  Tim's  wife  and  child  should 
come  home  here  without  knowing  it.  Well, 

" '  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform,' 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  217 

and  yet  we  are  so  short-sighted  that  we  never 
look  for  him  to  do  anything  that  we  couldn't  do 
ourselves." 

Naomi  crept  timidly  into  the  room  and 
looked  half  fearfully  at  the  bandaged  head  upon 
the  pillow. 

"Wont  you  tell  me  about  it,  please,  Miss 
Abigail?  I  can't  understand  it  all,  and  mother 
is  crying.  Who  is  it  ?' ' 

"Poor  little  lamb,  did  we  all  forget  you?" 
and  Miss  Abigail  put  her  arms  around  the  child, 
and  drew  her  close  up  to  her  with  a  new  and 
joyful  feeling  of  ownership,  since  she  was  Tim's 
little  girl.  "This  is  your  father,  dearie.  He's 
been  away  from  you  and  your  mother  ever  since 
you  were  a  baby,  but  he's  come  home  now  to 
take  good  care  of  you  as  soon  as  he 's  well  again, 
and  be  one  of  the  best  husbands  and  fathers  that 
ever  was." 

Miss  Abigail's  belief  in  the  future  was  un- 
bounded now,  and  she  looked  upon  her  brother's 
return  as  an  indication  that  he  had  left  all  his 
evil  ways  behind  him,  and  could  look  hopefully 
forward  to  his  becoming  all  that  he  should  be. 
If  the  mother's  prayers  had  been  so  far  answered, 
surely  they  would  be  wholly  granted. 

"Then  shall  we  always  live  here  in  this 
beautiful  place  with  you.  Miss  Abigail?"  asked 


2l8  CHRISTIK'S   NEXT   THINGS. 

Naomi,  not  knowing  whether  to  rejoice  or  not 
at  this  new  possession  of  a  father,  but  quite  able 
to  appreciate  the  tangible  good  of  never  leaving 
this  pretty  home,  where  she  was  so  happy. 

"You  must  call  me  Aunt  Abigail  now,  for 
you  are  my  own  dear  little  niece,"  said  Miss 
Abigail,  stooping  to  kiss  the  child.  "  Yes,  dear, 
I  hope  you  will  always  live  here  with  me;  but 
if  that  should  not  be,  still  I  will  often  have 
you  here  for  nice  long  visits.  Now  tell  me 
where  you  found  your  father,  dear,  and  all  about 
it." 

They  went  back  into  the  kitchen,  that  the 
sound  of  voices  might  not  disturb  the  sleeper, 
and  Miss  Abigail  listened  to  Naomi's  simple 
recital. 

In  the  excitement  of  getting  the  sick  man 
into  the  house,  dripping  little  Naomi  had  been 
overlooked  by  both  her  mother  and  Miss  Abigail, 
but  Mrs.  Ehrich  had  taken  off  her  wet  garments 
and  rubbed  her  until  the  reaction  had  set  in  after 
her  chilled  feeling,  and  she  was  not  feeling  any 
the  worse  for  her  exposure. 

Mrs.  Harmer  came  down  stairs  presently,  her 
eyes  swollen  with  weeping,  and  passing  quietly 
into  the  bedroom,  knelt  down  beside  her  hus- 
band and  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the  face 
she  had  once  loved.  At  first  there  was  only  an 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  219 

angry,  resentful  feeling  in  her  heart.  This  man 
had  wronged  her  grievously.  She  had  been  a 
happy  girl  when  he  had  won  her  love  and  in- 
duced her  to  leave  her  home,  and  since  the  day 
she  had  become  his  wife  nothing  but  sorrow  had 
been  her  portion.  Hardships  of  all  kinds  she 
had  known  even  before  he  left  her,  and  she  had 
learned  to  hate  him  as  much  as  she  had  loved 
him.  She  had  laid  the  broken  hearts  of  her 
father  and  mother  at  his  door,  forgetting  that 
if  she  had  honored  their  wishes  she  would  never 
have  had  anything  to  do  with  the  dissipated, 
reckless  young  man  to  whom  they  would  not 
willingly  have  entrusted  their  daughter's  happi- 
ness. He  had  made  her  life  intolerable  with  his 
selfishness  and  hasty  temper  while  she  was  with 
him,  and  then  he  had  deserted  her  in  her  feeble- 
ness, and  never  apparently  remembered  the  ex- 
istence of  his  wife  or  child. 

How  could  she  be  glad  that  they  were  thrown 
together  again,  and  that  she  must  again  have  her 
life  wrecked  by  his  selfishness?  Better  that  she 
should  take  Naomi  that  very  night  and  wander 
out  into  the  world  again  to  hide  themselves  some- 
where, than  that  she  should  again  enter  the  bond- 
age of  unloved  and  unloving  wifehood. 

Tenderer  thoughts  came  into  her  heart  while 
she  knelt  there.  The  helplessness  and  suffering 


220  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

of  the  unconscious  figure  touched  the  springs  of 
pity  in  her  woman's  heart,  and  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  leave  him  now  while  he  so  needed 
a  wife's  care  and  nursing.  True  he  had  left  her 
when  she  was  ill  and  unable  to  care  for  herself, 
but  she  did  not  remember  that  as  resentfully  as 
she  did  a  little  while  ago. 

It  had  not  been  all  Tim's  fault  that  the  first 
year  of  their  married  life  had  been  one  of  such 
unhappiness.  She  had  not  been  loving  or  pa- 
tient, nor  had  she  tried  to  encourage  him  to  lead 
a  better  life.  Perhaps  there  might  even  yet  be  a 
life  of  happiness  in  store  for  them  if  they  should 
both  begin  over  again,  determined  to  do  right 
and  live  so  that  God's  blessing  might  rest  upon 
them. 

They  had  loved  each  other  once,  though  it 
had  not  been  with  an  unselfish,  forbearing  love, 
and  it  might  be  that  God  had  brought  them  to- 
gether again  that  they  might  learn  to  really  love 
each  other  and  make  a  happy  home  for  each  other 
and  little  Naomi.  She  would  try  to  win  her  hus- 
band's heart  again  with  love  and  patience,  and 
then  perhaps  she  could  bring  him  to  the  Saviour 
whom  she  had  learned  to  love.  If  their  home 
was  only  a  Christian  one  it  could  not  fail  to  be  a 
happy  one.  At  all  events  she  would  not  run 
away  from  the  duty  God  had  placed  before  her. 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.     221 

This  unexpected  meeting  with  the  husband  she 
had  believed  dead  was  of  His  ordering,  and  He 
had  intended  it  for  some  wise  purpose. 

With  a  low  moan  the  invalid  moved  his  head 
uneasily,  and  Mrs.  Harmer  leaned  over  him  and 
adjusted  the  pillow  more  comfortably.  The  very 
act  of  care  brought  back  a  faint  glow  of  pitying 
affection,  and  Miss  Abigail  coming  in  just  then 
smiled  with  pleasure. 

"I  was  just  studying  about  how  you  likely 
felt  towards  him,"  she  said  softly,  as  she  stood  by 
the  wife's  side.  u  I  know  he  hasn't  treated  you 
right,  and  that  he  don't  deserve  anything  from 
you  or  the  child  now  ;  but  I  could  n't  help  hoping 
you  might  find  it  in  your  heart  to  forgive  him 
and  give  him  a  helping  hand  again.  I  know  his 
faults  as  well  as  any  one,  for  we  grew  up  to- 
gether;  but  I  dare  say  I'm  more  inclined  to  ex- 
cuse them  on  account  of  his  being  my  brother ; 
and  I  can't  help  thinking  how  happy  we  might 
all  be,  if  only  you  could  love  him  a  little  again 
and  go  back  to  him.  If  you  were  good  to  him 
now  when  he 's  so  weak  and  helpless,  he  surely 
couldn't  but  appreciate  it,  and  I  know  he'd  do 
his  best  to  make  up  to  you  for  the  past  when  he 's 
better  again.  Of  course  I  don't  know  anything 
of  what's  hidden  away  in  his  heart,  but  I  can't 
help  feeling  that  when  he  made  up  his  mind  to 


222  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

come  back  home  he  meant  to  give  up  his  bad  life 
and  make  a  new  beginning.  You  '11  help  him  in 
it,  wont  you,  sister  Alice?" 

Tears  filled  the  wife's  eyes  as  she  heard  this 
loving  title. 

"Yes,  I  will  begin  again,"  she  said  softly, 
"and  who  knows  but  that  God  may  have  happi- 
ness in  store  for  us  yet?" 

The  vigil  was  divided  that  night  between  the 
wife  and  the  sister,  and  so  the  nursing  began 
which  continued  for  days  and  weeks. 

As  soon  as  the  people  in  Weston  heard  that 
the  long-astray  brother  had  returned  and  was  ill, 
Miss  Abigail  received  many  kind  offers,  and  felt 
that  all  were  interested  in  the  event  which  was 
so  much  to  her;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  let 
strangers  enter  the  sick-room  and  see  the  wreck 
which  dissipation  as  well  as  illness  had  made  of 
the  once  handsome  boy  whom  they  remembered. 

Mrs.  Ehrich  went  home  about  a  week  after  the 
invalid's  coming.  She  was  well  and  strong  now, 
and  the  baby  was  a  chubby,  plump  little  fellow, 
who  could  hardly  have  been  recognized  as  the 
frail  mite  of  an  infant  that  came  there  some  six 
weeks  before.  The  husband  was  growing  lonely, 
and  though  he  had  been  down  twice  to  see  his 
wife  and  child,  yet  he  was  eager  to  get  them 
home  again. 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  223 

Miss  Abigail  would  have  been  sorry  to  part 
with  them  if  her  heart  and  hands  had  not  been  so 
full  just  now  with  her  brother.  During  these 
days  of  dependence  and  helplessness,  when  her 
husband  had  to  have  his  slightest  wants  minis- 
tered to  as  if  he  was  an  infant,  Alice  Harmer 
learned  to  feel  an  affection  for  her  husband  that 
she  could  not  have  believed  possible. 

He  had  been  more  seriously  ill  than  the  doc- 
tor had  thought  at  first,  and  there  were  a  few 
days  when  his  life  hung  in  the  balance,  and  it 
hardly  seemed  as  if  he  had  vitality  enough  left  to 
withstand  the  tremendous  drain  his  exposure  and 
efforts  to  reach  home  had  made  upon  his  consti- 
tution. 

Very  earnest  were  the  prayers  which  ascended 
from  his  bedside  in  the  quiet  night  watches,  that 
God  would  spare  his  life  and  give  him  back  to 
them  again.  Naomi,  too,  nightly  added  her 
childish  petition,  "Please,  God,  bless  father  and 
make  him  well  again." 

A  worthless  life  it  had  been  in  the  past,  and 
perhaps  it  hardly  seemed  worth  the  earnest  plead- 
ing that  ascended  for  its  preservation;  but  both 
sister  and  wife  looked  forward  hopefully  to  the 
possibilities  of  the  future,  and  looked  upon  it  as 
a  boon  which  they  could  not  too  earnestly  en- 
treat. 


224  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   BEGINNING. 

IT  was  long  days  before  the  fever  in  Timothy 
Harmer's  veins  subsided,  and  although  he  had 
several  times  opened  his  eyes  and  spoken  to  his 
two  faithful  nurses,  he  had  not  recognized  either 
his  surroundings  or  his  sister  and  wife.  He  was 
conscious  of  their  ministrations  for  his  comfort, 
however,  and  learned  to  know  Alice's  light  step' 
and  gentle  touch,  which  were  more  soothing  to 
him  than  Miss  Abigail's  more  energetic  move- 
ments. 

One  day,  as  Alice  sat  by  his  side,  wielding  a 
large  fan  gently  to  and  fro,  for  the  river  breeze 
had  died  away,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
her  steadfastly,  with  a  dawning  of  recognition  in 
his  gaze.  A  bewildered  look  crossed  his  face, 
and  he  looked  about  the  room,  evidently  trying 
to  make  his  troubled  brain  explain  to  him  where 
he  was  and  who  was  sitting  beside  him. 

"  Alice  !"  he  said  faintly,  in  incredulous  tones, 
and  she  answered  gently,  laying  her  cool  hand 
upon  his  forehead, 

"Yes,  Timothy,  it  is  Alice,  your  wife.     You 


A    BEGINNING.  225 

are  at  home  again,  and  you  have  been  sick.  Go 
to  sleep  now,  and  I  will  explain  it  all  to  you  when 
you  wake  up." 

He  seemed  satisfied  with  her  words,  and  was 
too  weak  to  question  her  any  further,  so  with  a 
little  sigh  of  content  he  closed  his  eyes  again  and 
fell  into  a  light  and  refreshing  slumber. 

It  was  two  days  later  before  he  asked  any  more 
questions  or  manifested  any  curiosity,  and  then 
when  Miss  Abigail  was  beside  him  he  looked  up 
and  asked, 

"Where  is  mother?" 

Miss  Abigail  forgot  all  the  waywardness  which 
in  his  later  years  had  made  her  harden  her  heart 
against  him,  and  remembered  only  the  love  and 
pride  that  she  had  felt  in  the  old  days  for  this 
youngest  brother,  who  had  been  the  family  pet  in 
babyhood.  Very  gently  she  told  him  of  the 
changes  that  had  been  made  in  the  long  years 
that  had  passed  since  he  had  left  the  old  roof-tree, 
and  told  him  of  the  forgiveness  and  blessing  that 
the  old  people  had  left  for  him. 

"  Mother  was  sure  to  the  last  that  you  'd  come 
home  again  to  her,  Tim,"  Miss  Abigail  said, 
"and  she  bade  me  tell  you  that  she  had  loved  you 
to  the  last.  She's  waiting  and  watching  for  you 
in  a  better  home  now,  brother,  and,  please  God, 
you  must  surely  meet  her  there." 

Christie's  Next  Tlunss.  1 5 


226  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

In  those  quiet  hours  of  thought  that  followed, 
when  he  was  too  ill  and  weak  to  escape  from  him- 
self, Tim  had  time  for  good  resolutions.  The 
husks  upon  which  he  had  been  living  all  these 
years  had  lost  all  power  to  satisfy  him,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  never  return  to  his  evil  life  and 
associates.  The  pure  influences  of  his  boyhood's 
home  were  stronger  than  the  temptations  of  the 
life  he  had  left  behind  him.  A  great  desire  to 
redeem  the  past  filled  his  heart,  and  he  deter- 
mined that  if  his  wife  could  forgive  him  he  would 
atone  for  the  past  with  all  its  mistakes  and  sin. 

"  Alice,"  he  said  one  day,  detaining  her  as  she 
leaned  over  him  to  rearrange  his  pillow,  "I've 
been  a  bad  husband  to  you.  I  do  n't  deserve  that 
you  should  be  so  good  to  me ;  and  yet  because 
you  are  I  am  going  to  ask  something  more  of 
you.  Will  you  trust  me  to  take  care  of  you  and 
the  child,  and  will  you  help  me  make  a  home 
again?  I  mean  to  be  a  better  man  if  you  will 
help  me.  Can  you  forgive  me?" 

"I  forgave  you  long  ago,"  she  answered, 
touching  her  lips  to  his  sunken  cheek,  "and  you 
have  much  to  forgive  too,  Tim.  We  will  both  of 
us  start  over  again,  now  that  God  has  brought  us 
together." 

The  days  that  followed  were  very  happy  ones 
to  the  occupants  of  the  little  cottage,  and  they 


A   BEGINNING.  22J 

were  drawn  closely  together  in  their  new-found 
relationship.  As  the  cooler  days  of  September 
followed  the  heat  of  August,  Timothy  rapidly 
gained  health  and  strength  and  began  to  plan  for 
the  future.  Much  to  Miss  Abigail's  delight  he 
was  very  anxious  to  stay  under  the  home  roof, 
and  there  was  no  fear  but  that  he  would  be  able 
to  get  plenty  of  employment  as  soon  as  his 
strength  had  sufficiently  returned. 

Christie  was  very  happy  over  the  thought  that 
she  had  so  unexpectedly  been  the  instrument  of 
bringing  husband  and  wife  together  again. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Abigail  learned  of  the  rela- 
tionship of  her  guests  she  protested  vigorously 
against  allowing  Christie  to  pay  their  board  ;  but 
as  she  really  needed  the  money,  especially  with 
the  added  care  and  expense  of  an  invalid,  Chris- 
tie would  not  accept  her  refusal,  but  insisted  upon 
her  taking  the  money  she  had  laid  aside  for  that 
purpose. 

Very  small  seemed  the  "  nexte  thynges" 
which  came  to  Christie  in  these  days,  and  some- 
times she  was  tempted  to  wonder  whether  they 
were  worth  the  doing.  If  she  only  had  had  Ach- 
sah's  talents,  or  Florence's  wealth,  so  much 
grander  opportunities  would  have  been  open  to 
her,  and  she  had  all  of  a  girl's  impatience  with 
"  the  trivial  round"  which  fell  to  her  share. 


228  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

Was  she  making  the  very  best  of  her  life,  she 
asked  herself  impatiently  sometimes,  and  then 
the  memory  of  Aunt  Patience's  gentle  counsel 
came  to  her  troubled  heart  like  a  benediction.  If 
she  was  doing  "  ye  nexte  thynge,"  then  surely  she 
must  be  going  in  the  path  in  which  the  Lord 
would  lead  her  and  following  his  guidance. 

Each  day  saw  these  little  things  lovingly  and 
faithfully  accomplished,  although  many  of  them 
were  almost  too  trivial  to  record;  yet  this  quiet 
ministry  of  helpfulness  staightened  many  a  rough 
place  in  others'  paths  and  brought  gleams  of  sun- 
shine into  dull  lives. 

In  September  her  "nexte"  came  to  her  on 
this  wise.  As  she  was  passing  out  of  Sunday- 
school  one  day  the  superintendent  spoke  to  her, 

"Miss  Gilbert,  may  I  detain  you  a  moment? 
I  have  something  to  speak  to  you  about;"  then  as 
Christie  stepped  back  towards  the  desk  he  ex- 
plained to  her  that  it  had  been  thought  best  to 
try  to  establish  a  mission  Sunday-school  in  a  part 
of  the  village  where  the  people  who  worked  in 
the  factory  lived.  It  had  proved  an  almost  im- 
possible task  to  persuade  the  children  of  this 
neighborhood  to  attend  Sunday-school,  and  so 
the  attempt  was  to  be  made  to  take  religious 
instruction  to  them,  by  holding  an  afternoon 
meetin-g  where  they  could  not  have  the  excuse  of 


A    BEGINNING.  229 

distance  nor  lack  of  suitable  clothing  to  prevent 
their  attendance. 

"Now  I  want  to  ask  if  you  will  volunteer  to 
be  one  of  our  teachers,  Miss  Gilbert?"  he  said  in 
conclusion. 

Christie  looked  thoughtful. 

"At  what  hour  will  the  Sunday-school  be 
held?"  she  asked. 

"At  half-past  two,  as  that  hour  seems  to  be 
the  most  generally  convenient,"  Mr.  El  wood 
answered.  "Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  press  you 
for  an  immediate  answer,"  he  went  on,  as  Chris- 
tie did  not  come  to  a  decision  at  once.  "You 
are  right  to  think  the  matter  over  before  you 
pledge  your  services,  but  I  would  be  glad  if  you 
would  send  me  a  line  to-morrow,  and  I  trust  you 
will  see  the  way  clear  to  sending  a  favorable  an- 
swer, for  we  shall  need  earnest  workers  very 
much  if  we  are  to  accomplish  anything  in  that 
corner  of  the  vineyard." 

Christie  promised  to  give  the  matter  careful 
thought,  and  that  afternoon  when  dinner  was 
over,  and  she  went  up  to  her  room  for  the  hour  of 
quiet  reading  that  she  enjoyed  so  much,  she  re- 
deemed her  promise.  She  had  been  wanting 
some  work  to  do  that  would  require  self-denial 
and  would  produce  fruit;  but  now  that  the  op- 
portunity had  come  she  shrank  from  it. 


"230  CHRISTIE  S    NEXT  THINGS. 

In  the  first  place  she  distrusted  her  own 
powers,  and  did  not  believe  that  she  could  teach 
as  well  as  some  one  else  who  might  volunteer  if 
she  refused.  Aside  from  this  there  were  other 
reasons  why  she  did  not  want  to  promise  her  ser- 
vices. This  afternoon  hour  of  quiet  solitude  was 
a  very  restful,  helpful  one,  and  it  would  require 
a  great  deal  of  self-sacrifice  to  systematically 
forego  it  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and  walk  to  the 
other  end  of  the  village,  instead,  in  all  weathers. 

Yet  it  was  "  ye  nexte  thynge,"  and  dared  she 
leave  it  undone  because  it  was  not  just  the  form 
of  service  she  would  have  liked  ?  If  the  Master 
had  laid  this  command  upon  her,  "Feed  my 
lambs,"  would  she  refuse  to  minister  to  these 
little  ones  in  his  name  because  her  inclinations 
would  have  prompted  some  more  pleasant  ser- 
vice? 

It  did  not  take  her  very  long  to  come  to  a 
decision  after  she  had  thought  the  matter  over 
prayerfully,  and  she  resolved  to  assure  Mr.  El- 
Wood  of  her  hearty  cooperation  in  the  work  that 
Very  evening.  Mrs.  Gilbert  heartily  approved  of 
the  work,  and  was  glad  that  Christie  was  to  have 
a  share  in  it,  for  she  was  never  happier  than 
when  she  saw  her  only  daughter  learning  to 
consecrate  her  talents  and  powers  in  practical 
religious  work. 


A    BEGINNING.  231 

The  next  Sunday  afternoon  saw  Christie,  with 
a  dozen  other  helpers  from  the  church,  seated  in 
the  room  which  had  been  rented  in  the  factory 
neighborhood  and  fitted  up  as  a  Sunday-school. 
About  thirty  children  had  gathered  there,  at- 
tracted by  the  hearty  personal  invitations  and 
promises  of  picture  cards  that  they  had  received 
from  Mr.  Elwood  during  the  past  week,  when  he 
had  visited  their  homes,  and  about  a  dozen  more 
were  hanging  about  the  outside  of  the  door  in 
little  groups,  looking  as  if  they  were  ready  to  run 
if  any  advance  was  made  towards  them. 

The  opening  exercises  were  interesting  and 
well  sustained  by  the  teachers,  although  the  chil- 
dren were  too  shy  to  take  any  part,  even  in  the 
singing,  and  then  classes  were  formed  and  appor- 
tioned to  each  teacher. 

Christie  found  herself  seated  before  four  little 
girls  about  twelve  years  old,  who  looked  at  her 
half  defiantly  and  half  curiously  as  if  wondering 
what  she  was  going  to  do  with  them.  Two  or 
three  times  during  the  hour  that  followed  Chris- 
tie almost  made  up  her  mind  to  let  this  be  her 
last  attempt  at  teaching,  for  she  found  it  such  a 
hard  task  to  gain  or  keep  the  children's  atten- 
tion. 

The  children's  eyes  wandered  about  the  room 
or  over  her  dress  with  a  vacant  stare,  and  the 


232  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

only  interest  they  seemed  to  feel  was  concerning 
a  ring  upon  her  finger.  One  of  them  shyly  vol- 
unteered the  question,  "What  is  that  ring  made 
of  anyhow?"  and  all  the  class  listened  for  the 
answer;  but  after  that,  when  she  had  turned  it  out 
of  sight,  that  she  might  draw  their  attention  to 
the  lesson,  they  became  listless  again. 

The  lesson  for  the  day  was  the  story  of  Moses, 
and  when  Christie  ascertained  that  none  of  them 
knew  anything  about  him,  she  began  at  his 
babyhood,  and  dwelt  upon  each  incident  until 
she  thought  she  had  fixed  it  in  their  minds. 

She  had  never  more  greatly  exerted  herself  to 
make  every  word  as  interesting  as  possible,  and 
when  she  paused  to  question  the  children  she  felt 
assured  they  would  be  able  to  give  intelligent 
answers,  notwithstanding  their  dull  faces. 

After  eliciting  with  considerable  difficulty  the 
information  that  Moses  was  put  in  a  basket  in  the 
bulrushes,  Christie  asked,  "Why  did  his  mother 
hide  him  away?"  There  was  a  perfectly  blank 
look  upon  the  faces  before  her,  and  the  children 
did  not  seem  willing  to  hazard  an  answer. 

"I  am  sure  somebody  can  tell  me,"  said 
Christie  encouragingly,  trying  not  to  lose  her 
patience. 

Still  there  was  a  silence,  and  not  one  face 
brightened  in  response  to  her  pleasant  smile. 


A    BEGINNING.  233 

"  I  might  just  as  well  give  up  at  once,"  Chris- 
tie said  to  herself  despairingly.  "If  they  can't 
answer  a  simple  question  like  that  after  I  thought 
I  had  explained  everything  so  carefully,  then 
they  are  too  stupid  ever  to  learn  anything,  or  else 
I  am  not  fitted  to  teach  them." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me,  Becky?"  she  said  after  a 
moment's  pause,  addressing  the  least  unprepos- 
sessing of  the  girls  by  name. 

But  Becky  only  shook  her  head  and  thrust 
her  dirty  thumb  in  her  mouth. 

"  I  know,"  said  a  girl  at  the  other  end  of  the 
class,  and  Christie's  heart  grew  lighter  at  this 
encouragement. 

"Well,  suppose  you  tell  me,"  she  said. 

"Why,  because  he  was  such  a  bad  baby  his 
mother  couldn't  stand  him  around  the  house  no 
longer." 

Christie's  first  feeling  was  one  of  utter  dis- 
couragement at  this  unlooked-for  answer.  She 
glanced  sharply  at  the  child  to  see  if  she  was 
trying  to  say  something  mischievous,  but  one 
look  at  the  stolid,  undisturbed  face  convinced  her 
that  Maggie  had  hazarded  her  answer  in  good 
faith. 

As  her  annoyance  vanished  a  keen  sense  of 
the  ridiculousness  of  the  answer  nearly  overpow- 
ered her,  and  she  barely  restrained  herself  upon 


234  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

the  verge  of  a  laugh.  Fortunately  she  controlled 
her  impulse,  and  without  letting  the  child  see  her 
amusement  she  answered, 

"No,  that  wasn't  the  reason,  Maggie,  but  I 
am  glad  you  tried  to  answer." 

She  carefully  went  over  that  point  in  the 
lesson  again,  and  then  without  trying  to  draw 
them  out  with  any  more  questions,  she  resolved 
to  spend  the  rest  of  the  lesson  hour  in  getting 
somewhat  acquainted  with  these  children  who 
were  so  unlike  any  she  had  ever  had  anything  to 
do  with  before. 

The  girls  responded  a  little  more  readily  and 
intelligently  to  her  questions  about  themselves 
and  their  home  life,  and  Christie  opened  her  eyes 
in  surprise  when  Maggie  volunteered  the  infor- 
mation that  she  "kept  house  now,  and  minded 
the  children  as  well." 

"  Is  your  mother  sick?"  asked  Christie. 

"She  fell  at  the  factory  and  broke  her  leg 
nigh  two  months  ago,"  Maggie  answered,  "and 
it  don't  seem  to  heal  up  right.  She  a'  n't  any 
more  able  to  get  around  now  than  she  was  at 
first;  so  I  mind  things  and  do  all  the  work." 

"You  must  be  a  nice  little  housekeeper  to 
get  so  much  accomplished,"  said  Christie,  when 
Maggie,  suddenly  becoming  quite  confidential, 
told  her  that  she  cooked  father's  dinner  and  took 


A    BEGINNING.  235 

it  to  him  at  noon,  besides  doing  the  home  work, 
for  the  two  children  next  younger  than  herself 
went  to  school,  and  the  three  who  were  still 
younger  were  all  too  small  to  be  entrusted  with 
the  dinner-pail. 

A  dull  flush  of  pleasure  crept  over  the  child's 
face  at  Christie's  words  of  praise,  and  when  she 
went  on  to  say, 

"  If  you  think  your  mother  would  like  to  see 
me,  I  will  call  and  see  her  this  week,"  Maggie's 
answer  was  prompt  and  satisfactory. 

"Yes,  she'd  be  right  pleased,  for  she  gets 
lonesome  enough  with  nothing  to  do  but  lie  still 
and  think  of  her  bad  leg  all  day.  T  wish  you 
would  come." 

By  the  time  she  had  found  out  where  Maggie 
lived,  and  had  appointed  Tuesday  afternoon  as 
the  time  for  her  visit,  Mr.  Elwood  tapped  the 
bell  as  a  signal  for  the  lesson  to  cease,  and  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  Christie  leaned  back  in  her  chair 
and  realized  that  the  first  session  was  over. 

Was  it  of  any  use  for  her  to  keep  the  class? 
she  asked  herself,  as  the  children  left  hastily, 
without  the  ceremony  of  saying  farewell,  eager 
to  gain  the  freedom  of  the  open  air  again. 

She  could  not  hope  that  they  had  learned  any- 
thing, with  all  her  careful  preparation  of  the  les- 
son and  the  effort  she  had  made  to  awaken  their 


236  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

intelligent  interest.      Had  her  afternoon's  work 
been  of  any  use  after  all? 

-  She  asked  Mr,.  Elwood  the  question  as  they 
le*ft  the  room  together. 

"  I  am  sure  that  they  did  not  learn  anything," 
she  .said  in  discouraged  tones,  "so  what  is  the 
use  of  my  coming?" 

"Perhaps  there  is  another  question  to  ask," 
Mr.  Blvvood  answered.  "Did  you  learn  any- 
thing, Miss  Christie?  It  may  be  that  the  lesson 
to-day  was  for  you  to  learn." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Elwood?" 
and  Christie  looked  up  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Perhaps  you  learned  a  lesson  of  patience  and 
of  perseverance  in  well-doing  that  repaid  you  for 
the  sacrifice  of  your  time,"  he  responded.  "  Dis- 
couragement proves  a  very  helpful  ministry  some- 
times, although  I  grant  it  is  a  hard  teacher.  Yet 
if  by  forbearance  and  patience  with  these  little 
ones,  who  try  us  so  sorely  with  their  indifference 
and  lack  of  appreciation  of  our  efforts,  we  learn  the 
infinite  forbearance  and  tenderness  of  our  Heav- 
enly Father  with  our  failures,  surely  we  need  not 
think  the  lesson  too  hard  to  be  worth  learning. 
But  you  must  not  feel  as  if  your  afternoon  had 
been  wasted,  even  as  far  as  these  children  are 
concerned,  Miss  Gilbert.  If  they  did  not  remem- 
ber anything  of  the  lesson,  it  was  a  great  step  that 


A   BEGINNING.  337 

you  made  their  acquaintance,  and  I  saw  one  of 
them  talking  to  you  so  freely  that  I  felt  greatly 
encouraged  about  your  probable  success  with  the 
class.  The  factory  people  are  a  community  by 
themselves,  and  we  must  learn  to  reach  down  to 
them  if  we  would  hope  to  draw  th.em  up  to  a 
higher  level.  When  they  feel  that  we  take  a 
warm  interest  in  their  temporal  affairs  then  they 
will  believe  in  the  sincerity  of  our  desire  to  help 
them  in  spiritual  matters.  It  will  take  a  great 
deal  of  patient  culture  before  we  can  expect  to 
see  the  first  fruits  of  the  harvest ;  but  we  must 
sow  in  faith,  believing  that  God  can  bring  forth 
a  hundred-fold  harvest  in  his  own  good  time." 

Mr.  El  wood's  spirit  of  hopefulness  was  con- 
tagious, and  Christie  said  nothing  about  her  has- 
tily formed  determination  to  give  up  the  class. 
She  went  home  in  a  brighter  mood,  and  at  the 
tea-table  amused  her  father  and  mother  with  an 
account  of  her  afternoon's  experience  and  Mag- 
gie's original  reason  for  Moses'  cradle  among  the 
bulrushes ;  but  there  was  no  thought  now  of  giv- 
ing up  in  despair,  for  she  was  determined  to  per- 
severe and  trust  the  results  with  God. 


238  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NEW  WORK. 

CHRISTIE  did  not  forget  her  promise  to  call 
upon  Maggie's  mother,  and  Tuesday  afternoon  she 
prepared  for  the  visit,  taking  with  her  a  little 
delicacy  that  she  thought  would  be  appreciated 
by  the  invalid. 

She  was  a  little  shy  about  going  alone,  and 
had  intended  to  persuade  her  mother  to  accom- 
pany her;  but  Mrs.  Gilbert  was  lying  down  with 
a  headache,  so  she  had  to  go  alone  if  she  was  to 
fulfil  her  promise  of  calling  that  afternoon. 

"I  think  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  go  by 
yourself,  dear,"  Mrs.  Gilbert  said,  as  Christie 
kissed  her  good-by.  "You  will  have  a  better 
chance  to  get  acquainted  with  the  family,  and 
they  will  talk  to  you  more  freely  than  if  I  should 
go  too." 

"What  a  forlorn  place  to  live  in!"  Christie 
thought,  as  she  daintily  picked  her  way  along  the 
miserable  pavement,  with  depressions  here  and 
there  containing  pools  of  rain  water,  in  which 
some  ragged  children  were  playing,  as  happy  as 
if  thev  were  ducks  and  in  their  native  element. 


NEW  WORK.  239 

"It  is  as  bad  as  the  tenement  house  streets  in 
the  city,"  Christie  reflected,  as  she  searched  for 
the  house  to  which  Maggie  had  directed  her. 
True,  the  blue  sky  was  overhead,  and  there  were 
no  overhanging  roofs  to  hide  it,  and  there  might 
have  been  an  abundance  of  fresh  air  if  the  people 
of  Factoryville,  as  this  part  of  the  village  was 
named,  had  desired  it ;  but  the  heaps  of  decaying 
refuse  made  the  air  heavy  with  foul  odors,  and 
very  few  windows  were  open  with  an  attempt  at 
ventilation. 

From  the  promptness  with  which  her  knock 
was  answered,  Christie  suspected  that  Maggie 
had  been  watching  for  her,  and  she  was  pleased 
at  this  indication  of  interest  upon  the  part  of  one 
of  her  unpromising  scholars.  She  was  quite  sure, 
too,  that  Maggie  presented  a  more  tidy  appear- 
ance than  was  her  wont,  and  that  the  family  liv- 
ing-room had  been  put  to  rights  in  expectation  of 
her  call. 

She  found  Mrs.  Riley  a  rather  unprepossess- 
ing woman,  who  took  advantage  of  the  unusual 
occurrence  of  a  visitor  to  dilate  upon  her  accident 
and  all  its  attendant  misfortunes  in  a  whining 
voice,  and  to  throw  out  numerous  hints  of  what 
would  be  most  acceptable. 

"Ah,  you  don't  know  how  hard  it  is  to  be 
poor  and  sick,  with  no  one  to  do  a  hand's  turn  for 


240  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT   THINGS. 

you,  the  house  going  to  rack  and  ruin,  and  every- 
thing going  out  instead  of  coming  in.  God  pity 
the  poor  anyhow. ' ' 

uNo\v,  mother,  what's  the  use  of  going  on 
that  way?"  interrupted  Maggie,  with  sturdy  hon- 
esty. "Things  wasn't  so  awful  much  better 
when  you  was  around.  I  think  I'm  the  one  to 
do  the  complaining  as  much  as  any  one.  I  do  all 
the  work  and  keep  the  place  looking  better  nor 
you  did  ;  and  father's  wages  come  in  regular.  He 
a' n't  spent  a  cent  on  beer,  only  what  you've  had 
yourself,  since  you  was  took  bad.  I  don't  get 
no  chance  at  schooling,  but  I  do  n't  see  as  you '  ve 
anything  to  complain  about  but  the  pain." 

"A' n't  you  ashamed  to  be  talking  to  your 
poor  mother  that  way,  and  before  company,  too," 
said  her  mother,  evidently  ill  pleased  at  Maggie's 
candor.  "Children  don't  know  anything  about 
what  their  mothers  have  to  put  up  with,  and  it's 
no  use  expecting  gratitude  from  them." 

"  I  am  sure  Maggie  does  her  best  to  be  a  nice 
little  housekeeper,"  said  Christie,  feeling  sorry 
for  Maggie.  "  Is  this  the  baby?"  she  asked,  as  a 
little  toddler  made  his  way  across  the  room  to 
hide  his  face  in  the  bed-clothes  and  peep  shyly  at 
the  visitor. 

"Yes,  that's  the  baby,  poor  little  soul," 
sighed  Mrs.  Riley,  who  was  determined  to  keep 


NEW   WORK.  241 

the  misfortunes  of  the  family  uppermost.  "I'm 
ashamed  for  you  to  see  him  so  poorly  off  for 
clothes,  Miss  Gilbert,  but  I  haven't  had  the 
money  to  buy  him  a  stitch  this  many  a  day.  If 
I  only  had  some  of  the  clothes  that  rich  people 
throw  into  the  rag-bag,  I  could  do  a  great  deal 
towards  fixing  him  up,  but  it 's  a  hard  world  for 
the  poor." 

"He  looks  like  a  healthy  little  fellow,"  said 
Christie,  with  persistent  cheerfulness,  looking  at 
the  little  face,  which,  though  dirty  and  streaked 
with  traces  of  his  last  meal,  was  plump  and  rosy. 

"And  it's  a  wonder,"  sighed  Mrs.  Riley,  "for 
it's  little  enough  of  nourishing  food  he  has  to  eat. 
When  you  have  so  many  mouths  to  feed  it 's  little 
enough  one  can  put  in  them." 

Maggie's  face  was  scarlet  as  she  listened  to  her 
mother's  complaints,  and  Christie  felt  quite  drawn 
to  the  girl  as  she  made  up  her  mind  that  in  spite 
of  her  apparent  stolidity  she  must  have  some  deli- 
cacy of  feeling  underlying  her  rough  exterior. 

It  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  call,  and  Chris- 
tie felt  her  sympathy  for  the  invalid  vanishing 
rapidly.  It  had  been  impossible  to  suggest  any 
cheerful  topic  of  conversation,  for  Mrs.  Riley's 
response  to  every  remark  had  been  of  the  most 
lachrymose  sort,  and  Christie  had  not  tried  to 
make  her  enjoy  the  call  by  commiserating  her 

f!hrietie'»  Next  Thinfa.  1 6 


242  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

misfortunes  at  any  great  length.  She  had  ex- 
pressed her  sympathy  for  the  accident,  but  when 
everything  that  Mrs.  Riley  said  was  plainly  in- 
tended for  a  hint  as  to  what  would  be  acceptable 
in  the  family,  Christie  felt  her  generous  impulses 
becoming  adamant. 

The  baker's  wagon  went  through  the  street, 
and  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  bell  Maggie  seized 
an  old  pocketbook  and  darted  out,  soon  returning 
with  three  loaves  of  bread. 

"Do  you  get  all  that  every  day?"  Christie 
asked  in  surprise,  for  it  looked  sufficient  to  her  to 
provision  a  small  regiment. 

"Oh,  my,  yes,  and  sometimes  we  get  more 
than  this,"  Maggie  answered.  "  The  young  ones 
eat  a  sight  of  bread  and  molasses." 

Mrs.  Riley  had  no  commentary  to  make  upon 
this  speech.  She  could  hardly  complain  that  the 
children  were  insufficiently  provided  with  food, 
when  Maggie  had  called  that  pile  of  loaves  the 
usual  supply  of  bread. 

"Don't  you  ever  make  bread?"  asked  Chris- 
tie. "I  should  think  it  would  be  a  more  eco- 
nomical way  than  to  buy  it  from  the  baker." 

"  I  'd  like  to  make  it  if  I  knew  how,"  Maggie 
answered,  "  but  I  have  n't  the  first  idea  how  to  go 
about  it.  People  do  say  it 's  so  much  more  satis- 
fying and  it  a'  n't  as  drv  as  baker's  bread.  We 


NEW  WORK.  243 

always  buy  stale  loaves,  because  it's  cheaper  and 
it  do  n't  go  quite  so  fast ;  but  I  'd  like  to  make  it 
instead  if  I  could." 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  into  Christie's  mind. 
Even  if  she  could  not  succeed  in  interesting  Mag- 
gie in  the  lesson  on  Sunday,  there  were  some 
other  things  that  she  needed  to  learn  which  she 
could  teach  her.  She  had  been  carefully  taught 
all  branches  of  cooking  by  her  mother,  who  be- 
lieved housewifery  to  be  as  essential  a  part  of  a 
young  girl's  education  as  any  study  she  might 
pursue  at  schoo'l.  She  could  make  sweet,  light 
bread  that  even  her  mother,  who  was  a  notable 
housekeeper,  could  not  excel,  and  she  knew  that 
she  could  teach  Maggie  this  accomplishment. 

"Maggie,  would  n't  you  like  to  have  me  teach 
you  to  make  bread?"  she  asked.  "I  can  make 
bread,  and  it  is  not  at  all  a  difficult  thing  to  do ; 
and  I  am  sure  I  could  show  you  so  you  could  al- 
ways make  it" 

Maggie's  face  brightened  with  a  smile,  and 
she  was  about  to  assent,  when  Mrs.  Riley  inter- 
posed, 

"You're  very  kind,  Miss  Gilbert,  but  it 
wouldn't  be  worth  while  for  you  to  take  your 
time.  Children  are  so  flighty  that  you  can't  de- 
pend on  them  from  one  time  to  another.  Maggie 
might  make  out  once,  but  many  a  time  she  'd 


244  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

only  waste  the  flour,  and  so  it  would  come  to 
more  in  the  end  than  it  was  worth." 

A  sullen  look  clouded  Maggie's  face,  and 
Christie  did  not  wonder  at  it. 

"If  I'm  so  flighty  as  all  that,"  she  said 
angrily,  "it's  a  pity  you  can't  see  after  things 
yourself.  I'm  tired  enough,  goodness  knows,  of 
doing  all  the  work,  and  only  getting  pitched  into 
for  it  all  the  time." 

Christie  looked  as  uncomfortable  as  she  felt 
while  these  remarks  were  passing  backward  and 
forward  between  mother  and  daughter,  for  Mrs. 
Riley  at  once  administered  a  prompt  rebuke, 
with  a  tone  in  her  voice  that  suggested  the  vixen 
when  she  was  not  too  lachrymose. 

Christie's  impulse  was  to  take  her  departure 
without  waiting  for  any  more  unpleasant  epi- 
sodes; but  something  in  Maggie's  disappointed 
face,  sullen  though  it  was,  touched  her  heart, 
and  she  determined  to  stay  till  she  had  won  Mrs. 
Riley's  consent  to  her  project. 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  teach  Maggie  at 
any  rate,"  she  said  pleasantly.  "It  will  be  a 
good  thing  for  her  to  know  how  to  make  bread, 
and  you  might  let  her  do  it  until  you  found  that 
she  failed  too  often  to  make  it  an  economy.  I 
have  never  failed  yet,  though  I  have  made  bread 
a  good  many  times,  and  I  don't  believe  Maggie 


NEW  WORK.  245 

will.  It  would  give  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
to  teach  her." 

Mrs.  Riley  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  yield, 
for  she  did  not  want  to  gratify  Maggie's  evident 
wish  to  accept  the  offer;  but  she  hardly  thought 
it  good  policy  to  refuse  Miss  Gilbert's  request. 
It  might  be  .that  she  would  be  disposed  to  be 
generous,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  could  afford 
to  be,  shrewd  Mrs.  Riley  reflected,  so  it  would 
pay  to  humor  her  in  this  notion  of  teaching 
Maggie. 

Even  if  she  let  the  girl  have  her  way  in  this, 
she  could  thwart  her  in  some  other  desire.  There 
was  not  much  love  lost  between  Maggie  and  her 
mother,  and  the  pair  were  generally  in  a  state 
of  hostility,  when  each  enjoyed  annoying  the 
other  in  any  way  that  seemed  practicable. 

"Well,  if  you  will  be  so  good,  Miss  Gilbert,  I 
am  sure  I  've  nothing  to  say  against  it,"  she  said. 
"Though  it's  quite  too  much  for  you  to  trouble 
yourself  that  way." 

"It  is  trouble  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  take," 
Christie  answered.  "Maggie,  I  think  the  best 
way  for  you  to  learn  would  be  to  come  up  to  our 
house  this  evening  and  see  how  the  sponge  for 
the  bread  is  set;  then  you  could  do  it  yourself 
the  next  time.  Suppose  you  should  come  about 
eight  o'clock." 


246  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

Maggie  looked  very  much  pleased,  but  she 
was  afraid  that  if  she  expressed  her  pleasure  too 
plainly,  her  mother  might  still  interfere  with  her 
going,  so  she  answered  quietly, 

44 1 '11  come." 

Christie  was  glad  to  take  her  leave,  and  as 
she  went  home  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
certainly  would  never  go  to  see  Mrs.  Riley  again. 
If  Maggie  should  be  sick  she  would  visit  her, 
but  she  wanted  nothing  more  to  do  with  the 
mother;  she  was  too  thoroughly  disagreeable. 

Her  heart  warmed  towards  the  child  in  a  way 
that  she  would  hardly  have  believed  possible 
upon  Sunday.  It  was  no  wonder  that  she  looked 
dull  and  heavy,  when  there  were  no  influences 
in  her  home  or  surroundings  to  brighten  and 
stimulate  her.  She  could  see,  too,  that  however 
stupid  Maggie  might  be  in  the  class,  she  was  not 
lacking  in  a  certain  amount  of  common,  sense 
and  energy  about  other  matters,  for  the  charge 
of  the  house,  miserable  as  it  was,  was  a  consider- 
able burden  for  a  twelve-year-old  girl  to  bear 
alone. 

"Poor  little  thing,  I  should  think  her  mo- 
ther's remarks  would  discourage  her,"  Christie 
thought,  determining  to  do  all  that  she  could 
herself  to  stimulate  Maggie's  ambition. 

She  told  her  mother  of  her  plan  to  teach  Mag- 


NEW  WORK.  247 

gie  to  make  bread,  and  of  her  invitation  to  the 
child  to  come  that  evening. 

"  It  will  be  real  missionary  work  to  teach  her 
how  to  make  good  wholesome  bread,"  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert answered.  "I  think  I  can  improve  upon 
your  plan  a  little,  though,  dear.  If,  as  you  say, 
her  mother  does  not  seem  very  anxious  to  have 
her  taught,  Maggie  may  find  it  difficult  to  get 
the  flour  and  other  necessary  articles.  Suppose 
when  she  comes  to-night  you  let  her  set  a  sponge 
here,  and  then  she  can  come  up  in  the  morning 
and  you  can  show  her  how  to  knead  it  up.  Per- 
haps if  her  father  tasted  her  first  baking,  he 
might  appreciate  the  bread  so  much  that  he 
would  encourage  Maggie  to  keep  on,  and  get  the 
flour  for  her,  so  she  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
trying  her  skill  at  home  next  time." 

That  afternoon  as  Christie  was  looking  among 
her  possessions  for  a  piece  of  gingham  which  she 
thought  would  do  nicely  to  make  an  apron  for 
Maggie,  she  came  across  a  bag  which  she  had 
made  the  preceding  Christmas  with  a  number 
of  others,  but  which  she  had  not  given  away. 
All  the  girls  in  the  Sunday-school  class  to  which 
Christie  belonged  had  made  some  of  these  bags 
as  Christmas  presents  for  a  mission-school  in  the 
city,  but  this  was  one  that  had  been  left  over. 
It  was  a  bag  made  of  flowered  cretonne,  contain- 


248  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

ing  a  comb,  a  tiny  looking-glass,  a  tooth-brush,  a 
piece  of  soap,  and  a  coarse  towel. 

"This  will  be  the  very  thing  for  Maggie," 
thought  Christie,  remembering  the  shock  of  un- 
tidy hair,  that  looked  as  if  it  had  never  received 
any  attention;  and  she  laid  it  out  with  the  ging- 
ham to  give  her  little  pupil  when  she  should 
come. 

Maggie  made  her  appearance  very  promptly, 
and  although  she  was  very  shy,  yet  there  was  an 
air  of  pleased  expectation  about  her  that  satis- 
fied Christie  that  she  had  been  anxious  to  come. 
She  was  delighted  with  her  present,  and  readily 
promised  Christie  that  she  would  make  use  of 
the  contents  of  the  bag. 

"I  was  afraid  mother  wouldn't  let  me  get 
the  flour,"  she  said,  when  she  found  that  Christie 
was  going  to  let  her  make  her  first  bread  at  Mrs. 
Gilbert's;  "  but  if  it's  any  way  good,  father  said 
he  'd  get  me  a  bag  of  flour  for  sure." 

"This  will  be  good,  I  am  sure,"  said  Christie, 
pleased  at  Maggie's  enthusiasm,  and  she  began 
her  first  cooking  lesson,  with  the  gray  eyes  in- 
tently watching  every  movement. 

"Can  you  get  time  to  come  up  here  early  in 
the  morning?"  she  asked,  when  the  bread  was 
set  and  a  clean  cloth  spread  over  the  tops  of  the 
pans. 


NEW  WORK.  249 

"Oh,  yes,"  Maggie  answered  promptly. 
"The  woman  that  lives  next  door  to  us,  she 
told  me  she'd  mind  the  house  any  time  for  me 
while  I  was  learning  to  make  bread,  if  I'd  show 
her  how  afterward.  She  'd  like  to  try  her  hand 
at  it  too,  if  I  get  along  pretty  well." 

Christie  was  pleased  that  her  lesson  was  to 
be  transferred  to  another,  and  the  first  outlines 
of  a  plan  began  to  take  tangible  shape  in  her 
active  brain  as  she  bade  her  scholar  good-night. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  dear?"  her 
mother  asked  a  little  later,  as  Christie  sat  wrap- 
ped in  thought  upon  the  porch  steps. 

"  I  believe  I  have  a  good  idea,  mother  mine," 
Christie  answered,  "but  I  am  not  sure  until  I  talk 
it  over  with  you  first.  Do  you  think  it 's  just  be- 
cause they  are  poor  that  the  people  in  Factory- 
ville  are  so  dirty  and  live  so  wretchedly,  or  is  it 
because  they  don't  know  how  to  do  any  better? 
Couldn't  they  have  real  palatable  nourishing 
food,  if  they  knew  how  to  prepare  it,  without 
much  more  expense;  and  if  they  knew  how  to 
sew  nicely,  couldn't  they  look  less  ragged  and 
neglected  ?' ' 

"It  is  more  ignorance  than  poverty,"  her 
mother  answered.  "The  hands  at  the  factory 
generally  make  pretty  good  wages,  and  if  the 
wives  had  had  a  good  training  in  housekeeping 


250  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

they  might  live  very  comfortably  and  have  pleas- 
ant homes;  but  the  trouble  is  that  most  of  them 
don't  know  how  to  do." 

"I  have  a  plan  that  seems  a  little  Utopian 
and  impracticable,  but  still  I  think  that  somehow 
it  might  be  put  into  execution  and  be  helpful," 
Christie  said.  "It's  rather  in  a  tangle  yet,  but 
I  think  you  can  straighten  it  out  for  me. 
Couldn't  we  girls  somehow  have  a  class  among 
those  girls  about  Maggie's  age  and  older,  and 
teach  them  something  about  cooking  and  sew- 
ing? It  seems  to  me  it  is  almost  necessary,  in  or- 
der to  go  with  the  teaching  on  Sunday,  and  per- 
haps we  could  reach  them  better  if  we  learned  to 
know  more  about  them  and  their  needs.  We  do  n'  t 
want  to  drift  apart  and  give  up  our  class  motto, 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  this  would  be  a  real  help- 
ful 'nexte  thynge'  if  we  could  get  it  into  work- 
ing order.  There  are  enough  of  us  to  divide  up 
the  work  so  it  would  not  be  too  much  of  a  bur- 
den upon  one  alone,  and  couldn't  we  plan  it  all 
out  somehow?" 

"It  would  be  an  excellent  idea,"  said  her 
mother  approvingly.  "You  might  begin  with 
the  sewing-class,  and  then  as  soon  as  you  could 
make  arrangements  for  a  cooking-class  that  could 
be  added.  I  don't  know  of  any  work  that 
would  be  better  worth  doing  than  teaching  those 


NEW  WORK.  251 

poor  people  how  to  make  the  best  of  their  lives. 
I  have  always  thought  that  it  would  be  the  most 
practical  kind  of  temperance  work  to  teach  young 
girls  how  to  make  neat,  well-cared-for  homes,  and 
then  the  saloons  would  not  seem  as  inviting  as 
they  do  now,  by  contrast  with  the  dirty,  disor- 
derly rooms  that  many  men  call  homes.  Whole- 
some nourishing  food  would  go  far  towards  ma- 
king liquor  less  craved,  and  a  great  deal  of  unne- 
cessary unhappiness  and  misery  would  be  saved. 
Perhaps  just  at  first  you  might  find  a  little  diffi- 
culty in  persuading  the  children  to  attend  the 
sewing-class,  but  if  you  could  manage  to  give 
them  the  garments  they  made,  they  would  soon 
have  their  ambition  stimulated  and  be  anxious 
to  learn." 

"I  am  going  to  see  the  girls  to-morrow,  and 
find  out  if  they  would  be  willing  to  help,"  Chris- 
tie said,  her  difficulties  vanishing  beneath  the 
sunshine  of  her  mother's  approval.  "It  would 
be  nice  to  begin  this  month  if  we  could,  for  the 
afternoons  are  getting  quite  cool  now,  and  I  want 
to  be  sure  that  this  will  have  a  settled  place  in 
all  our  plans.  I  am  getting  quite  enthusiastic 
over  it,  and  in  imagination  I  see  poor  little  Mag- 
gie developing  into  a  notable  housekeeper  and 
seamstress.  It  isn't  much  wonder  that  she  does 
seem  so  dull  and  uninteresting  when  she  has  such 


252  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

a  home  and  such  a  mother.  You  can't  imagine 
what  a  disconsolate,  whining  sort  of  woman  she 
is,  mother.  She  was  just  hinting  for  things  all 
the  time,  and  Maggie  looked  so  ashamed." 

"I  think  I  have  met  just  such  people,  dear," 
her  mother  answered,  smiling  at  Christie's  dis- 
gust. "I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  help  Maggie 
overcome  the  disadvantages  of  her  home  and 
make  something  of  herself;  but  don't  set  your 
expectations  too  high,  or  I  am  afraid  you  may  be 
disappointed." 

"I'll  try  and  limit  my  hopefulness  just  at 
present  to  success  in  her  bread-making  to-mor- 
row," Christie  responded.  "I  hope  her  mother 
wont  interfere  with  her  coming." 

It  would  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  argument 
to  have  prevented  Maggie  from  going  to  Mrs. 
Gilbert's  the  next  morning,  and  she  was  up  be- 
times that  she  might  use  her  new  possessions  in 
making  a  far  more  careful  toilet  than  was  her 
custom.  Christie  had  emphasized  the  necessity 
of  having  clean  hands,  so  Maggie  scrubbed  away 
at  hers  with  unremitting  diligence  till  they 
were  red  and  shining  with  the  vigorous  applica- 
tion of  soap  and  water.  Her  hair  was  freed  from 
the  wilderness  of  tangles,  although  it  had  been 
an  almost  interminable  piece  of  work  to  impa- 
tient Maggie  to  reduce  it  to  a  smooth  braid,  and 


NEW  WORK.  353 

she  wondered  two  or  three  times  whether  Miss 
Christie  would  notice  the  improvement. 

She  felt  quite  repaid  for  her  exertions  when 
her  young  teacher  cordially  praised  her  neatness, 
and  she  determined  to  keep  herself  looking  tidy 
all  the  time,  since  it  made  her  so  much  more  at- 
tractive in  appearance.  A  ribbon  to  tie  her  hair 
completed  her  happiness,  and  she  told  Christie 
she  would  comb  her  hair  every  morning  now,  so 
that  it  would  never  get  so  tangled  again.  She 
had  left  her  usual  morning  tasks  in  charge  of  the 
kindly  neighbor,  so  that  she  could  stay  until  the 
loaves  of  bread  were  taken,  crisp  and  odorous, 
from  the  oven. 

Maggie  surveyed  the  loaves  with  undisguised 
admiration  and  delight. 

"Well,  father  will  never  believe  I  made 
these!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  wont  put  a  knife  to 
them  till  he  sees  them,  for  he  '11  be  so  pleased. 
I'm  sure  he  will  always  want  me  to  make  our 
bread  now,  and  we  wont  have  to  eat  those  old 
stale  loaves  from  the  baker's  wagon." 

Between  Maggie  and  her  father  there  was  evi- 
dently a  great  deal  of  sympathy,  and  when  the 
child  started  off  triumphantly  with  her  basket  of 
bread  on  her  arm,  her  first  thought  was  of  her 
father's  pleasure  in  her  success. 

Christie  was  almost  as  delighted  as  her  pupil, 


254  CHRISTIE'S    NEXT   THINGS. 

arid  she  was  eager  to  talk  over  her  plan  for  more 
extended  instruction  with  the  girls  and  secure 
their  cooperation  in  the  work. 

It  was  quite  as  easy  a  task  as  she  had  antici- 
pated, for  the  girls  were  ready  for  work.  They 
had  so  thoroughly  enjoyed  carrying  out  their 
plans  for  Mrs.  Elirich  that  they  were  eager  and 
ready  for  "ye  nexte  thynge." 


HARVESTS.  255 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HARVESTS. 

"WELL,  does  n't  this  look  just  tempting  !" 

Louise  was  flushed  and  tired,  but  she  looked 
about  her  with  such  satisfaction  that  all  her 
weariness  was  quite  forgotten.  There  was  a 
chorus  of  assent  to  her  remark  as  five  other  girls 
looked  around  approvingly. 

"  Great  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,"  spouted 
Louise,  and  she  voiced  the  thought  that  was  in 
the  hearts  o£,her  companions. 

Nearly  four  months  ago  they  had  gathered  a 
few  of  the  girls  from  Factoryville  into  a  sewing- 
class,  and  twice  a  week  had  laid  aside  their  own 
occupations  and  pleasures  and  devoted  them- 
selves to  teaching  their  scholars  the  use  of  the 
needle.  AtVr  the  sewing-class  was  firmly  estab- 
lished and  h^d  begun  to  prosper,  a  cooking- 
class  was  begun  under  many  difficulties,  which 
was  well  attended  by  all  who  had  heard  of 
Maggie's  fame  among  her  neighbors  as  a  bread- 
maker. 

The  lack  of  a  suitable  room  and  appurtenances 
hampered  the  girls  very  much,  but  the  mothers 


256  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

came  to  the  rescue  when  they  found  how  much 
good  could  be  accomplished  by  this  movement 
which  their  girls  had  begun.  A  suitable  room 
was  rented  in  Factoryville,  and  furnished  with 
some  of  the  necessary  appliances,  though  there 
was  still  much  to  be  desired  before  it  would  be 
fully  equipped.  When  the  girls  had  once  be- 
come interested  in  their  pupils,  Mr.  El  wood  had 
no  trouble  in  engaging  their  assistance  in  the 
Sunday-school,  and  the  mission-school  was  in  a 
very  encouraging  condition. 

The  harvest  of  the  four  months  of  faithful 
work  was  beginning  to  ripen,  and  the  hearts  of 
the  toilers  were  rejoiced  by  these  indications  of 
success.  In  many  of  the  miserable  homes  in 
Factoryville  there  were  signs  of  marked  improve- 
ment. The  girls  were  beginning  to  take  pride  in 
trying  to  keep  themselves  and  their  surroundings 
neater,  and  wholesome  food  was  taking  the  place 
of  the  greasy,  ill-cooked  viands  with  which  they 
had  formerly  contented  themselves. 

The  young  teachers  had  planned  a  supper 
to  be  cooked  and  served  by  the  members  of  their 
cooking-class  for  the  benefit  of  the  room,  and 
they  hoped  that  they  might  realize  enough  to 
enable  them  to  purchase  the  other  needful  appli- 
ances for  their  work.  They  had  spent  the  day  in 
decorating  the  room,  preparing  the  tables,  and 


HARVESTS.  257 

making  everything  look  as  inviting  as  possible, 
and  now,  while  they  took  a  few  moments  of  well- 
earned  rest,  they  looked  about  upon  their  han- 
diwork with  just  pride,  the  pretty  rooms  and 
the  tempting-looking  viands  seemed  such  great 
results  to  have  grown  from  their  first  feeble 
efforts. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  the 
joyous  spirit  of  that  holiday  was  in  their  hearts, 
but  the  sweetest  pleasure,  although  none  of  them 
expressed  it,  was  in  the  thought  that  the  Master 
had  accepted  and  blessed  their  work  for  him,  and 
that  their  lives  were  not  spent  for  self  and  selfish 
gratification. 

The  evening  proved  to  be  even  more  success- 
ful than  the  young  managers  had  hoped,  and  the 
money  that  came  in  freely  was  a  tangible  evi- 
dence of  the  interest  and  sympathy  their  friends 
felt  in  their  work,  besides  assuring  them  that 
they  would  be  able  to  carry  out  their  plans  for 
greater  usefulness. 

"Our  'nexte'  has  grown  to  be  larger  work 
than  we  could  have  believed  at  first,"  Christie 
said  that  night  to  her  mother  as,  thoroughly  tired 
out  but  very  happy,  she  walked  homeward.  "  It 
seemed  such  a  small  thing  when  we  first  started 
it,  but  it  is  growing  all  the  time,  and  we  are 
really  beginning  to  see  good  results  from  it.  The 

Christie's  Neit  Tliingg.  \ 


258  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

children  are  improving  wonderfully  in  more 
things  than  cooking  and  sewing." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  never  see  the  final  re- 
sults," her  mother  said.  il  The  '  nexte  thynges  ' 
that  seem  so  small  just  now  may  be  links  in  a 
chain  that  will  reach  others  that  you  have  never 
heard  of  or  seen,  and  influence  them  for  good. 
It  is  all  in  God's  hands,  and  he  can  use  very 
feeble  efforts  that  have  been  made  in  his  name  to 
carry  out  great  purposes." 

They  were  passing  the  quiet  village  of  the  dead 
now,  and  Christie  looked  among  the  white  stones 
that  marked  the  resting-place  of  loved  ones  until 
her  eyes  lighted  upon  a  slender  shaft  that  glis- 
tened pure  and  spotless  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  wish  Aunt  Patience  could  know  how  she 
still  helps  me,"  she  said  softly.  "When  I  feel 
all  out  of  patience  with  these  little  things  I  re- 
member her  last  talk  with  me,  and  it  helps  me  so 
to  feel  that  nothing  is  too  small  to  be  worth  doing 
since  it  is  God's  appointment  for  me.  She  made 
the  ministry  of  '  nexte  thynges '  seem  as  glorious 
as  any  great  work.  Of  course  sometimes  I  can't 
help  wishing  that  I  could  do  something  that 
would  result  in  things  that  seemed  more  worth 
accomplishing,  but  still  on  the  whole  I  have 
learned  not  to  undervalue  little  things. 

"I  cannot  see  that  the  world  is  any  the  bet- 


HARVESTS.  359 

ter  since  last  June  because  I  have  lived  in  it,  or 
that  I  have  brought  very  much  happiness  to 
any  one ;  but  I  have  tried  to  '  doe  ye  nexte 
thynge,'  so  I  am  content  to  '  leave  all  resulting' 
with  God." 

The  results  of  the  "nexte  thynges  "  were  for 
the  most  part  beyond  Christie's  knowledge,  but 
there  was  much  fruitage  that  she  might  have 
claimed,  if  she  had  traced  her  work. 

Achsah,  happy  and  successful,  with  her  talents 
consecrated  to  God's  service,  might  have  told 
how  much  encouragement  she  owed  to  Christie, 
and  how  the  timidly  written  invitation  to  her  to 
share  the  peace  which  her  friend  had  found  had 
led  her  to  Christ. 

Christie  knew  that  she  had  been  the  instru- 
ment of  bringing  together  the  long-estranged 
husband  and  wife,  but  there  was  one  part  she  had 
in  the  wanderer's  return  that  she  never  knew:  if 
she  had  not  first  brought  her  friend  to  Christ,  the 
sweet  story  might  never  have  been  told  which 
fell  upon  the  prodigal's  ears,  and  made  him  de- 
termine to  leave  the  far  country  and  go  back  to 
his  father's  house. 

Through  Christie's  inspiration  the  girls  who 
might  have  let  their  lives  drift  along  aimlessly, 
with  no  thought  but  that  of  their  own  gratifi- 
cation and  pleasure,  had  learned  the  ministry  of 


260  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

helpfulness,  and  in  the  unwritten  record  of  each 
life  there  were  many  u  nexte  thynges  "  that  had 
brightened  the  lives  of  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  them,  though  they  were  very  simple  and 
unobtrusive  deeds  of  self-denial. 

The  harvest  that  resulted  from  their  united 
efforts  was  one  that  they  could  rejoice  in  as  they 
saw  it  beginning  to  ripen,  and  it  encouraged  them 
to  renewed  effort. 

The  last  evening  in  the  old  year  the  girls  met 
at  Mrs.  Gilbert's  to  welcome  in  the  new  year  to- 
gether and  bid  farewell  to  the  old.  Achsah  was 
with  them,  for  she  had  come  to  spend  her  holi- 
days with  Christie.  The  hours  sped  swiftly  away 
in  games  and  merriment,  but  at  last,  when  the 
hands  of  the  clock  pointed  to  half-past  eleven, 
they  quieted  down  as  they  realized  that  in  half  an 
hour  more  the  old  year  with  its  record  would 
have  passed  away  for  ever.  They  were  quiet  for 
a  while  as  they  grouped  themselves  about  the 
open  fireplace  with  its  blazing  coals. 

"Christie,  tell  us  your  thought,"  said  Louise, 
"as  we  agreed  last  week  to  do." 

"Will  you  each  give  us  some  favorite  selec- 
tion if  I  set  the  example  ?"  Christie  asked. 

"Yes,  we  have  all  brought  a  contribution  to 
this  thought  feast,"  Achsah  answered  in  the 
name  ot  the  rest. 


HARVESTS.  261 

"I  recalled  some  lines  I  read  a  few  weeks 
ago,"  Christie  said,  "and  it  almost  awes  me  to 
think  what  influences  we  may  be  unconsciously 
putting  in  motion: 

"  '  Our  many  deeds,  the  thoughts  that  we  have  thought, 
They  go  out  from  us,  thronging  every  hour, 
And  in  them  all  is  folded  up  a  power 
That  on  the  earth  doth  move  them  to  and  fro; 
And  mighty  are  the  marvels  they  have  wrought 
In  hearts  we  know  not,  and  may  never  know.'  " 

There  was  a  pause  after  Christie's  words  died 

away;  then  Louise  spoke, 
"  Now,  Elsie." 
"I  like  these  lines,"  said  Elsie,  and  she  read 

with  feeling: 

"  '  May  every  soul  that  touches  mine- 
Be  it  the  slightest  contact— get  therefrom  some  good, 
Some  little  grace,  one  kindly  thought, 
One  aspiration  yet  unfelt,  one  bit  of  courage 
For  the  darkening  sky,  one  gleam  of  faith 
To  brave  the  thickening  ills  of  life, 

One  glimpse  of  brighter  skies  beyond  the  gathering  mists 
To  make  this  life  worth  while 
And  heaven  a  surer  heritage.'  " 

"  My  thought  is  in  the  same  channel  as  Chris- 
tie's," said  Florence,  as  the  girls  turned  towards 

her. 

" '  The  deeds  we  do,  the  words  we  say, 
Into  thin  air  they  seem  to  fleet ; 
We  count  them  ever  past, 
But  they  shall  last. 
In  the  dread  judgment  they 
And  we  shall  meet.'  " 


262  CHRISTIE'S  NEXT  THINGS. 

14  Now,  Grace,  let  us  hear  from  you;"  and  the 
girlish  voice  repeated, 

'"  God's  plans,  like  lilies,  pure  and  white  unfold. 
We  must  not  tear  the  close-shut  leaves  apart ; 
Time  will  reveal  the  calyxes  of  gold. 
And  if  through  patient  toil  we  reach  the  land 
Where  tired  feet  with  sandals  loose  may  rest, 
Where  we  shall  clearly  know  and  understand, 
I  think  that  we  will  say,  "  God  knew  the  best." ' ' 

"Louise,  what  is  your  word  for  us?"  asked 
Christie. 

"It  is  very  short,  but  it  helps  me,"  Louise 
said,  and  she  read: 

" '  Thou  cam'st  not  to  thy  place  by  accident. 
It  is  the  very  place  God  meant  for  thee, 
And  shouldst  thou  then  small  scope  for  action  see, 
Do  not  for  this  give  room  to  discontent, 
Nor  let  the  time  thou  owest  to  God  be  spent 
In  idly  dreaming  how  thou  mightest  be.' " 

"My  lines  are  only  what  I  wish  might  be 
true,"  said  Ella. 

"  '  That  Thy  full  glory  may  abound,  increase, 
And  so  Thy  likeness  shall  be  found  in  me, 
I  pray.    The  answer  is  not  rest  or  peace, 
But  charges,  duties,  wants,  anxieties, 
Till  there  seems  room  for  everything  but  Thee, 
And  never  time  for  anything  but  these. 
The  busy  fingers  fly,  the  eyes  may  see 
Only  the  glancing  needle  which  they  hold  ; 
But  all  my  life  is  blossoming  inwardly, 
And  every  breath  is  like  a  litany, 
While  through  each  labor,  like  a  thread  of  gold, 
Is  woven  the  sweet  consciousness  of  Thee.'" 


HARVESTS.  263 

All  had  read  save  Achsah,  and  the  girls  turned 
towards  her  as  she  sat  with  clasped  hands  look- 
ing into  the  glowing  embers.  Her  words  were  a 
fitting  close  to  the  harmony  which  the  others  had 
expressed  in  their  garnered  thoughts,  each  pas- 
sage a  note  in  the  chord  of  love  to  the  Master. 

"  '  God's  angels  drop  like  grains  of  gold 

Our  duties  'mid  life's  shining  sands, 
And  from  them  one  by  one  we  mould 

Our  own  bright  crown  with  patient  hands. 
From  dust  and  dross  we  gather  them  ; 

We  toil  and  stoop  for  love's  sweet  sake, 
To  find  each  worthy  act  a  gem 
In  glory's  kingly  diadem, 

Which  \ve  may  daily  richer  make.'" 

As  she  finished  reading  the  hour  of  twelve 
chimed  from  the  church  tower,  and  the  old  year 
passed  away,  giving  place  to  the  new,  with  its  op- 
portunities and  temptations,  its  pleasures  and 
trials. 

Each  young  heart  knew  the  failures  of  the  last 
year,  but  as  the  clean  page  was  turned  over  to 
begin  a  new  record,  the  resolve  was  registered 
anew  which  would  prevent  many  a  mistake  and 
heartache,  and  from  her  quiet  resting-place  Aunt 
Patience  still  spoke, 

"Ij)oe  ye  IfFexte 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FAC 


A     000  033  607    3 


